


God's Permission

by Elpin



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Reality, Angels, Character Deaths, Demons, M/M, Post - Deathly Hallows, Post-Apocalypse, Three-way War
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-24
Updated: 2014-07-25
Packaged: 2017-12-03 11:37:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 18
Words: 80,960
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/697844
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elpin/pseuds/Elpin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For two thousand years a non-involvement agreement existed between the three powers of heaven, hell and earth. After the apocalypse, the wizards will only sign it again if they have proof that Lucifer is still in his cage. Sam and Dean are about to find out that there is even more between heaven and hell than they thought.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Meeting of Worlds, or the Crashing of Them

'Whoa, back up a second.' Dean raised his hand to stop the gibberish coming out of Castiel's mouth. Sam looked equally blank. 'You're saying there are witches and wizards... _good_ witches and wizards?'

They were all standing in a nondescript hotel room somewhere in one of the middle states. They had been hunting vampires. After successfully beheading them, they had been about to crash for the night, when Castiel had popped in, talking nonsense.

'I explained this already,' Castiel said, his impatience shining through. 'We need to go to London.'

'No, we need to back up a second,' Dean repeated through gritted teeth. 'How could you not mention there were witches that aren't demon-worshippers?'

'There has been a non-involvement agreement between us for almost two thousand years.'

'Hang on,' Sam finally spoke, shaking his head to clear it. 'An agreement? This is crazy... and if you really have this agreement, how the hell can they demand... me?'

'The agreement was broken when a demon tried to conquer their world. This... upset the wizards. Heaven wants to reinstate the agreement, but the wizards will not sign it until they have assurances.'

'Assurances of what?' Dean demanded, all but growling.

'That Lucifer has not returned from his cage yet again.' At the brothers' confused looks, Castiel sighed and explained further. 'They know Sam was returned, but like us they do not know how. This makes them suspicious. They think Lucifer might have returned as well, and is still residing within Sam.'

'But that's crazy!' Sam yelled. He turned away. Dean wanted to say something similar or reassure his brother, but the words stuck in his throat. Before he could do anything, Castiel responded.

'They will not take our word for it,' Castiel said. 'There is... mistrust between Angels and wizards.'

'So, what, they think Angels are dicks too?' Dean asked. 'If they don't worship demons and hate you guys, why didn't they fight against the Apocalypse? Cause I assume they wouldn't want the world to end?'

'They are on their own side,' Castiel said grimly, causing the brothers to exchange worried glances. 'They care not for anyone else, human or otherwise. They...' It looked like something was stuck in Castiel's throat. He looked positively uncomfortable. A strange sight. '... do not believe in God.' Dean blinked, shook his head and frowned.

'How can you have an agreement with a bunch of Angels and not believe in God? Granted, I'm not sure I believe in the guy...' Dean trailed off as he considered the strangeness of the situation.

'You would have to ask them that,' Castiel said. 'The Wizengamot- their Supreme Court if you wish- wants to cast an aura-reading spell on Sam. It should take only a moment and then we can leave.'

'No,' Dean said, answering for Sam, who had that "I'm about to sacrifice myself"-look.

'Wizards are unpredictable,' Castiel argued. 'Heaven wants the agreement back in place. While wizards despise demons even more than us, if no agreement exists things could become volatile. We must go back to the status quo.'

'No,' Dean repeated without missing a beat.

'Please,' Castiel said, surprising the pair. 'We do not want a third, unpredictable party at this time, especially with Heaven in its current state.' Castiel had explained about the civil-war after Michael's defeat. 'For all we know, the wizards could be planning to use the situation to their advantage.' Dean was about to repeat his "no" again, but Sam suddenly started pacing. The other two watched as he crossed to the door and spun around. His face was grim, and Dean thought he could easily predict what his brother would say, but he was wrong.

'Do you think they're right?'

'What?' Dean asked at the same moment that Castiel replied: 'It does not matter what I think.' Dean turned to Castiel and repeated 'What?' He felt like he was in the twilight zone. He gritted his teeth to keep from exploding. 'Explain,' he demanded.

'The wizards believe Lucifer may have found a way to hide inside Sam. They have provided an interesting example that has created a precedence. The Angels, myself included, would have felt it if Lucifer had escaped, but this means nothing to the wizards. They want their own proof.' The look on Castiel's face made it clear he didn't care much about what the wizards wanted, but that he had no choice. Sam took a deep breath.

'What kind of precedence?' he asked.

'Wizards are usually almost impossible to possess because of their magic, which, in essence, takes up space in their vessels, and there has never been one compatible with Angels. The demon who tried to conquer their world, however, did so by possessing a wizard child, growing inside and forming a strange meld. He managed to fool everyone. No one knew he was really a demon before the last months of their war. The wizards are convinced that he acted on orders from Lucifer himself, and that has broken the cease-fire.'

'How does that apply to Sam?' Dean asked.

'The fact that the demon could hide inside a wizard _is_ troubling, and I suppose their fear is justified. I am almost certain Voldemort - as the demon was called -was completely destroyed, but the wizards are worried he managed to pass on some knowledge to Lucifer. We have tried to convince them that even if a demon managed this meld, an Angels could not do the same, but as I said, there is much mistrust between us, and due to their recent experiences in their war they want to perform their own test.'

'They had a war? Like a real war?' Dean frowned; it was a lot of information to take in, but he was used to processing lots of new information about new things to kill. This was just without the how-to-kill-it part.

'Yes, it lasted several years. Many died. It started as a civil war, until Voldemort's ruse was unmasked. Only then did the wizards unite to destroy him.'

'Christ, this world is fucked up,' Dean muttered, feeling a headache coming on.

'The hearing is in a few minutes. We must go now.'

'Now? But it's-'

'Time-zones, Dean,' Sam commented.

'Oh, yeah,' Dean muttered while Sam continued:

'Let's just go and get this over with.'

'What? No, we are not giving in to a bunch of redcoat wizards,' Dean protested. Sam turned those wounded puppy-eyes on him.

'I need to know one way or the other, Dean,' he said. Before Dean could protest again, Castiel did his thing and suddenly they were in a very different place. Sam and Dean spun around several times, staring this way and that, trying to take it all in. It could be overwhelming for a young wizard, but for two muggles it was mind-boggling. People were popping up from green fires in countless fireplaces along the black-green walls. And in front of them was a great fountain with great statues shaped like things even the hunters had not thought really existed. The dude with the robe was pretty Merlin-like, but a centaur? You've got to be kidding me, Dean thought. Everything looked very new and shiny, like it had just been polished. The indoor windows were weird, to say the least, but kinda spacy. It looked like an underground office-building. Hell, maybe it was.

'This way,' Castiel said, going up to what appeared to be a front desk. Sam and Dean tried to avoid touching any of the wizards who rushed by. They all seemed to be in a lot of hurry.

'Check out the dresses,' Dean muttered. Sam shot him a look of annoyance, but he too raised an eyebrow at some of the more colourful robes. Not to mention the hats...

Castiel spoke quietly to the female wizard- though that would be a witch, right? Dean felt uncomfortable about the word as it usually meant housewives turned demon-worshippers. The witch disappeared for a moment, and when she returned, what could only be described as group of guards, followed. They surrounded the angel and hunters quickly. Dean and Sam instinctively went back-to-back, noting what had to be wands in the guards' hands.

'This is getting too Disney for my tastes,' Dean muttered. Sam shot him an annoyed look over his shoulder. A shorter, more plump wizard emerged from the lift and seemed to survey the group with disdain. He had a horrible little moustache, grey to match the little puff of hair that peaked out from under his Merlin-hat. It was purple, though his robes were red down the front with blue sleeves, with a red swirling pattern. It was all a bit too much to take in. Luckily the other guards wore plain robes in an oxblood red.

'You will relinquish whatever weapons you have on you,' the little wizard told them in a high squeaky voice. Dean almost snorted, but at the look from Castiel he reluctantly pulled out the gun he had hidden, though he kept the knife in his boot. He noted that Sam had also neglected to remove his knife. A wizard, one of the guards, took the items. He seemed perplexed by them.

'Be careful with that,' Dean warned. The wizard did snort, loudly. He disappeared into a room behind the front desk. The rest of the guards ushered them silently into the elevator. The three of them stood in the middle, squeezed from all sides by the robe-wearing, wand-waving Merlins. Dean opened his mouth to make another comment, but he caught a glimpse of Sam's face and fell silent. His brother was obviously taking these Disney-actors seriously. Castiel seemed even more uncomfortable somehow. The wizards kept shooting the Angel almost hateful looks. The plump little wizard led the way, taking them down a long, dark and shiny corridor with the same tiles everywhere. It felt like a basement. Dean had been in enough to know the smell and feel. Corridors in every direction. A maze, probably to confuse criminals who tried to escape.

Finally they reached a very high set of double doors, which opened on their own when the plump wizard neared them. Creepy. As they entered, the guards spread out to cover the entire door behind them, leaving the three visitors in front of a sea of robes. Dean's eyes widened. We're definitely not in Kansas anymore.

Straight ahead was something similar to a judge's seat, only with a ridiculous amount of judges on it. Twenty, maybe more. Most of them were old, men and women, all in matching plum-coloured robes. They sat high above the circular floor with a chair in the middle. To both sides of the door were spectator seats, forming the other half of the circle, filled with maybe fifty people crammed right. The plump wizard held up a hand.

'Wait there until called,' he ordered. The hall was lighted with torches, making it all very medieval. Dean now knew it to be true: no one expects the Spanish Inquisition.

The plump wizard stepped in front of the judges and bowed slightly.

'The non-Veela Castiel, and the muggles Sam and Dean Winchester have been brought before you.' The main judge, right in the middle and looking particularly wicked-witch-like, banged a gavel.

'This extraordinary meeting of the Wizengamot is now called to order,' he intoned. Though he did not appear to raise his voice, the sound still came out almost deafening and the whole hall fell silent at the sound of it. He continued at a less eardrum-shattering level. 'We are here to determine if the muggle Sam Winchester, now returned from the plain of existence called Hell, carried with him the non-Veela entity known as Lucifer.' Dean looked around him with disbelief. People were whispering at the name, almost as if they couldn't believe the judge had deigned to use it. What the fuck was going on? What the hell was a non-veela?

'Castiel,' the judge called, 'step forward.' Castiel did not glance at the brothers, but stepped forward with the same confidence he always exuded. 'You are the non-Veela entity, Castiel?'

'I am an Angel of the Lord, and my name is Castiel,' he replied, causing more tittering. Dean and Sam exchanged a few raised eyebrows.

'We have not called you here to debate your status. The Wizengamot does not recognise the entity called God, nor his agents as divine beings. We are here to determine if the conditions of the cease-fire are met. Has the entity Lucifer been contained?'

'Yes, he has,' Castiel answered immediately. Sam's brows furrowed, and Dean vowed to go easier on the angel from now on for lying so bald-faced when just moments ago he had expressed doubts. Maybe the wizards would take his word for it-

'He is within his cage?' the judge pressed.

'Yes.'

'The same cage that Sam Winchester cast himself into, while possessed by Lucifer?'

'Yes.'

'The Sam Winchester that now stands before us?'

'He has returned,' Castiel agreed, 'but the cage has not been opened. I believe God must have-'

'This court does not recognise the entity known as God,' the judge repeated imperiously. 'However, if he has the power to return Mr. Winchester to earth, why are we not to assume Lucifer again walks our plain?'

'He does not,' Castiel replied and Dean had to bite the inside of his cheek to keep from saying something. Way to argue the case, he thought uncharitably. He glanced around nervously, noting the many staring eyes. He felt like a circus-freak.

'I think we will be the judges of that ourselves,' the judge announced. 'Sam Winchester, step forth.' Dean watched as his brother swallowed hard and stepped forward, standing beside Castiel in front of the ridiculous yet obviously powerful looking judges. 'Sit down. We have our expert, Mr Poole?' Sam sat down stiffly. A tall wizard, though not quite as tall as Sam, rose from amid the spectators. His hair was greasy and he had a crooked nose. He looked like a Disney character all right, the kind that fell off a building at the end. Dean got a whiff of a foul smell as he passed by. He glided into the centre of the room like- well, something suspicious. Serpent like. He wore a tight-fitted black robe with a puffed white collar at his throat. His skin had a green sheen to it.

Dean was half a second from grabbing his brother and bolting when someone else stood up. He had been seated right by the door. A young man with wild dark hair and nerd-glasses. He looked like an earnest, lost-on-a-quest sort of character.

'I plead with the Wizengamot to hear me on this issue,' the young man said, standing up and coming forward, but not stepping into the circular floor just yet.

'While the wizarding world is grateful to you, Mr. Potter, you cannot be heard on every issue,' the judge informed him. Dean took a sideways glance at the young man. He seemed frustrated and annoyed. He wasn't wearing robes, thank God, but worn jeans, a grey t-shirt and a dark green jacket, also worn. Except for the nerd-glasses, Dean liked him almost instantly.

'Mr. Poole is not an independent specialist,' Potter insisted. 'It would be in the Wizengamot's interest not to use its own employees in its testing. The Angels may not like that.' That produced a lot of murmuring and the judges all whispered to one another for a moment. 'Please,' Potter continued. 'If you insist on this testing, then at least pick an independent. Hermione Granger, for example,' Potter gestured to the stand at a young bushy-haired woman. Dean assessed her out of habit if nothing else. She seemed to have that suppressed-teacher thing going for her. Probably wild in the sack if given the opportunity. 'She is a war veteran and celebrated as one of the brightest minds of our generation.' Dean's eyebrows rose high at that.

'We are well aware of Miss Granger's accomplishments,' the judge said impatiently. He sighed. 'We will allow Miss Granger to cast the spell and both she and Mr. Poole shall make their assessment.' Granger stepped down and came forward beside Sam and Poole. She gave Sam a kind smile and took out a wand. Dean tensed out of instinct. He didn't like magic, demonic or... whatever type this was.

Sam looked like he was going to be executed. Granger turned briefly to the Wizengamot. 'I would like to state for the record that I think this is an unnecessary invasion of privacy and that Mr. Winchester should be thanked for saving the world, not dragged halfway round it for a political agenda that has nothing to do with him.' The room erupted in murmurings until the judge had to bang his gavel.

'Miss Granger, if that is your opinion perhaps you are not qualified-'

'I am fully qualified. If this is to be done, I should wish it done right and thoroughly. Rest assured, I have every intention of casting to the best of my ability - if anything my opinion will ensure a thorough casting to avoid damage - and my reading will be impartial.' With a nod to Mr. Poole that was almost imperceptible, the judge waved her on.

She waved her wand around Sam in a way that caused Dean to question her sanity, especially when she started murmuring latin he didn't quite catch. Sam sat stiffly in the chair. Dean wished he could see his brother's face.

Finally, something happened. A glow emanated from Sam, like a big halo all around the edges of his frame. It shifted into different colours, like a strange localized aurora borealis. There were strange lightning bolt-shaped black streaks running through, however, that were not moving. They looked oddly sharp and fixed compared to the translucent waviness of the rest of the aura. Granger took her time in examining it. Dean wondered what she was seeing. Finally she stepped back and allowed Mr. Poole to examine it close up. After a tense moment of staring by the wicked wizard, the spell finally ended and Sam slumped slightly in his chair.

'Well?' The judge prompted. 'We all saw the evidence of a foreign presence.'

'Yes, but they were old wounds only,' Granger spoke without doubt. 'We know Sam Winchester has suffered possession before, as well as infection by demonic blood as a baby. All this activity has left wounds that will never be fully healed. But they are not the evidence of an active foreign presence.' The room fell silent as the judges took this in. Finally, the head judge looked to Poole. All Dean could think was: How the hell do they know all this stuff? Dean shot Castiel a piercing look, but the angel was focused on the judges.

'And your assessment?' The main judge asked Mr. Poole.

'I would like to cast my own spell, Sir, as I am unsure if Miss Granger cast with at full strength.'

'Excuse me?' Granger exclaimed just as Potter practically jumped forward.

'That is completely unnecessary!' he protested. 'We all saw the results perfectly clearly. Judges, please, ask any other competent wizard or witch in the audience. They will all tell you they saw the same. Ask Professor Snape, or Remus Lupin! They have both had experience with demons.'

'A former Death-Eater, who was barely acquitted of his crimes I might add, and a werewolf?' Mr. Poole commented. 'These are your competent wizards?' Dean tried to search out the werewolf in the crowd. How could they just let a known werewolf run about? This place made less and less sense every second.

'Remus Lupin is a war veteran. Where were you during the war, Mr. Poole? Practicing your skills on the French Riviera?'

Before Poole could respond the judge banged his gavel twice. Dean covered his flinch.

'You may cast again Mr. Poole,' the judge ordered.

'Sir, please,' Potter pleaded. 'This spell is not supposed to be cast on a person more than once every six months. It is invasive to the body's natural aura and it is an invasion of privacy as well!'

'The invasion of privacy has already happened,' the judge countered, 'and as Mr. Winchester is unlikely to be needing an aura-reading again in the near future, I see no reason why another casting should be detrimental to his health.'

Dean wondered why Castiel hadn't spoken up. Why didn't the bastard say anything? It wasn't like Dean would know what to say himself. How could he argue against something he didn't understand? But Castiel just stood there like a statue.

Poole cast again and went through the same procedure. Sam slumped in his chair, like he was tired. Afterwards Poole turned to the judges, who seemed to be waiting on the edges of their seats.

'Inconclusive,' he pronounced, causing the room to erupt with tittering. The judge banged his gavel.

'Ridiculous!' Granger protested. The gavel banged again.

'Judges, this man is lying!' Potter yelled. The gavel banged so hard that Dean was sure he could feel the sound wave. Magic was fucking scary. The hall finally fell silent.

'Mr. Potter, I am perplexed,' the head judge said, staring down with condescending eyes. 'You yourself are against the cease-fire agreement, yet you protest the findings that will lead to a rejection of it?'

'The agreement is cowardly,' Potter growled. 'We should be standing with the angels against the demons. Obviously, we shouldn't interfere with their internal affairs, but we cannot afford to wait another two thousand years to get involved again. The demons are the evils ones, think what you want about angels,' he gestured to the stoic Castiel. 'I'm not saying we should agree with them on everything, but this agreement makes us blind and ignorant. We're sticking our heads in the sand!'

'Enough!' The judge was wearing out his gavel at this rate.

'And Sam Winchester is not possessed! I don't care if it leads to a cease-fire agreement. You don't sacrifice the person who saved us for a political statement!'

'More than a political statement,' Poole shot in, 'an agreement that will guarantee peace for our time.'

'Are you a history buff, Mr. Poole?' Granger asked archly. 'Because you chose your words very aptly.'

'Silence,' the judge echoed. 'Mr. Potter, before the judges confer on this, I am curious. There are a hundred cases you have not decided to throw your considerable political weight on. Why this? Why does this muggle concern you?' Dean could see Potter cast a glance at Sam, who returned it briefly, though his eyes were barely open; he looked so sleepy. Dean wondered what they had said to each other with that look.

'Because I'm sick of the wizarding world not caring about what happens outside our world. We argue that our magic comes from the earth, unlike the angels whose magic is incompatible with ours and feels foreign. Yet, despite this we don't care about the earth at all, just the parts we live on. We just fought a war to make sure muggle-born witches and wizards are safe in our world. What about the rest of it?' He shook his head. Dean could see the young man was on the end of his rope. He had been there himself and knew the feeling. 'But if you want the real reason... I'm leaving Britain, and I won't be coming back, so I guess I'm just trying to do one right thing before I leave.' This caused some major chattering, but the judge seemed unaffected.

'Thank you, Mr. Potter,' he said stonily. He waved a wand and the judges started speaking to each other, but the sound did not reach them. Dean couldn't help it; he rushed forward to his brother, kneeling beside the chair.

'Sam? Sammy, you okay?'

'Yeah, I'm fine. Tired.' He sounded groggy, like he'd had one drink too many.

'He should be fine with a good night's sleep,' Granger explained. Dean looked to Castiel.

'And what's with you? Why didn't you say anything?'

'What would you have me say? They would not listen to me,' Castiel explained. 'You should be grateful we have an advocate the Wizengamot will listen to.' He gestured to Potter.

'I'm not so sure about that,' the young man said with a sigh.

'You did great, Harry,' Granger reassured him.

'Thanks, Hermione.' Before Dean could question either of them, they were interrupted.

The gavel sounded and everyone was ordered back into their seats or behind the line. All except for Sam, who remained in his chair.

'It is the opinion of the Wizengamot that the results of the aura-readings were inconclusive. We therefore can not take the chance that the non-veela Lucifer has not returned. If the cease-fire is to be signed, Sam Winchester will be taken into custody on the grounds that he is a threat to the wizarding world and the muggle world. He shall be held at Azkaban prison indefinitely as Dementors have been known to affect non-veelas to a satisfactory extent.' The hall erupted into noise. Dean wasn't sure what was happening. The gavel banged several times. Potter suddenly rushed forward, grabbing Dean's sleeve on the way. When he reached Sam he grabbed his sleeve too, then glanced at Castiel.

'Grimmauld Place, London,' he said and then Dean's world narrowed to an excruciating point.

Just when he thought the pain would overwhelm him, he was standing in front of a line of houses, all very English-looking to him. Sam had appeared on his feet, but now he collapsed against Harry, whose smaller stature made it look a little ridiculous. Dean quickly took the burden off the guy.

'Sam? Sammy?'

'He's just exhausted,' Harry explained. 'We should get inside quickly.'

'What about Castiel?'

'I'm hoping he's smart enough to follow us, though he would need to run to the Atrium. As an Angel, he's supposed to be fast, though, right?' Dean tried to make sense of the words. Sam was moving, like he was drunk. Dean tried to steady the great lug. He looked around them, feeling exposed. This was not how he had expected the day to go.

'Dammit, what's taking the angel so long?' Harry muttered. Just then said angel appeared. He looked angry.

'How did you do that?' he growled.

'I have many talents,' Harry quipped. 'I take it you had to run to the Atrium?' Castiel nodded.

'Luckily, you took them by surprise. They underestimated my speed as well, though I had to knock a few heads together.'

'Wait, what am I missing here?' Dean asked.

'There are spells in place to protect against people Apparating- moving instantly- out of there,' Harry explained. 'It even works on angels and demons, but I know my way around them. Luckily, wizards always seem to forget about the speed and strength thing. I think it's the lack of wand that gets them confused. So, I took you guys, figuring Castiel could run outside the protected magic before they knew what was what. Let's get inside to safety before they manage to find us. It's number twelve Grimmauld Place.' Before Dean could ask more questions, and he had lots, Castiel lifted Sam off him as if he weighed nothing and followed Harry to wherever they were going.

Dean was about to follow himself when the sight of the houses splitting stopped him in his tracks. He glanced up and down the street. A few people were out walking, but they appeared unaffected by the fact that another house was growing. Once the narrow house was fully formed or whatever Harry walked up the steps and disappeared inside. Castiel followed quickly with Sam.

'Shit,' Dean said. He could do nothing but follow.

The corridor inside was like straight out of a gothic novel. Dean tried to avoid the walls. They looked mouldy. He followed the sound of the others and entered an equally dreary living room. Castiel had placed Sam down on a couch. Dean went to his brother and put his hand on the high forehead. He wasn't warm or clammy.

'He's just tired. Making an aura visible to everyone is not something that is done often,' Harry explained. 'I suppose you could liken it to an x-ray. You don't want to do it often, or it could damage the aura.' Dean looked at the young man with hard eyes, trying to make an assessment. Why had he helped them? He seemed honest and righteous. The accent was sort of distracting, though. All other British people he had encountered were either demons or back-stabbing bitches.

'Why did you help us?' Castiel asked the question. Dean settled himself on the edge of the couch next to Sam, to keep an eye on him. Harry walked to a cabinet in the corner of the room. Dean wondered what he was doing until he heard the clinking of glasses.

'Because I'm sick of their bureaucratic bullshit,' Harry said in a no-nonsense tone. 'I know angels don't drink. Do you want one, Winchester? It's firewhiskey, strong stuff.'

'Sure, I'll try anything once, and call me Dean,' he said. When a guy had saved your brother's life, you had to cut him some slack, he reasoned.

'You should not drink,' Castiel warned him. He stood stiffly in the middle of the room, as if afraid to touch anything. 'I have heard rumours of firewhiskey...' Harry chuckled.

'Yeah, it can pack a punch,' he said, coming over with two glasses and handing one to Dean. The young man had a nice smile, Dean thought before swallowing a hefty gulp- and suddenly the young man was evil incarnate, for surely Dean had just been poisoned. He coughed as the liquid burned down his throat. Burned. He was sure it was actual fire. 'It's in the name,' Harry commented with a laugh.

'Smooth,' Dean rasped. 'I like it.' The banter was cut short when Sam stirred. 'Sammy?' The youngest Winchester blinked his eyes open.

'Dean? Where am I?'

'Number Twelve Grimmauld Place,' Harry answered, standing close. He waved his hand over Sam before Dean could protest, but he didn't speak any latin so Dean was unsure if the wizard had cast anything. 'You'll be fine. You want a headache potion?'

'A what? Never mind, I'm fine,' Sam said, sitting up. Dean sat back to give him some room. 'What exactly happened?'

'I busted you out of the Ministry. The Wizengamot wanted to send you to Azkaban, and while I've never been to hell, I can tell you it's probably the worst place on earth.'

'Really?' Dean said with a raised eyebrow. 'How d'you figure that?'

'The Dementors,' Harry said with a shudder. Dean couldn't tell if it was just for show or not. 'They feed off your mind... With enough time all you have left are your worst memories. A broken shell of what you were... and then, if they're still hungry, they might suck your soul out. The prison doesn't even have human guards. It's out in the middle of the North Sea anyway...'

'So, no chance of a Shawshank,' Dean commented. Harry frowned at the reference and Dean waved it away to ask about something else: 'Why're you really helping us, though? I mean, there's usually other ways of disagreeing with the government before you resort to breaking the law.'

'I told you,' Harry repeated. He took a swig of his drink and went over to a wing-backed chair that looked overstuffed and had possibly had some sort of pattern on it once. 'The truth is, we should be fighting this together. Not angels versus demons. It should be humans versus... well, whatever threatens this earth and its people, wizards or muggles.'

'Muggles?' Sam asked. Dean had wondered when he heard the word, but hadn't been in a position to ask before. It sounded made-up.

'Non-magical people,' Harry clarified. His gaze shifted to the empty fireplace. He looked unbelievably sad. Dean recognised that look. The look of the war-worn. 'I need to get away.' He shrugged.

'We should get back to the states,' Castiel suddenly spoke up. 'Thank you for your assistance.'

'You might need my assistance again,' Harry commented. Castiel narrowed his eyes. 'The Ministry will be after you. They don't like it when prisoners escape. If you have a home, or weapons, I could charm them for you. Protect areas and make weapons more effective against our magic.'

'You would do that for us?' Sam asked, suspicious. Harry shrugged again.

'We can't make it too easy for them.'

'Thanks, but no thanks,' Dean said, standing up. 'We roll alone. Castiel, do your trick and get us back state-side.'

'They will come after you,' Harry insisted. His face was very open and Dean could see some of Sam's puppy-look. 'The Wizengamot believes Lucifer is hiding inside you.' Harry turned his earnest eyes to Sam, who looked uncomfortable at the stare. 'At the very least they will send a couple of Aurors to try to bring you in.'

'Aurors?'

'Police,' Harry explained. He then turned to Castiel, obviously as a last resort. 'Do you think there is any chance of salvaging a relationship between our people?' Dean frowned at the term people. Were these wizards, who were all human, really as powerful as they thought? Powerful enough to think themselves a third power in all this? The thought sent shivers down Dean's spine. Power like that belonged only to the supernatural, not people.

'Unlikely,' Castiel replied grimly. 'With my sudden exit and non-cooperation with Sam's imprisonment, they will take it as a sign that the cease-fire will not be signed. As for any other kind of relationship, I do not think that will ever be possible. There is simply too much mistrust between us.' Harry sighed and nodded his head.

'I didn't support the cease-fire agreement, but I guess I was nave to think anything rational could replace it. I will monitor the situation here. Our world is busy rebuilding. I doubt they will put a lot of resources into anything else right now, so hopefully they won't send too many after you.' He turned to Sam, who was just getting up from the couch, looking a little unsteady. The hunter blinked at the much shorter wizard. Dean couldn't help but smile at the height difference. The kid was about three inches shorter than Dean, so to Sam he must look miniscule. Harry didn't seem phased by this either, however, and came to stand right in front of Sam, head tilted up with concern on his face.

'You sure you don't want a headache potion. It works instantly.'

'No, thanks,' Sam said. He looked a little flushed, Dean thought, but it was still best to avoid anything magic. A potion from these people probably contained tail of newt or other disgusting stuff.

'Ok, I get it. I probably wouldn't take anything from the wicked witch either,' Harry said with good humour. 'Sometimes I still wake up and don't quite believe it all.'

'What do you mean?' Sam asked.

'Well, I didn't know I was a wizard as a kid,' Harry said with a shrug. 'It could happen to anyone.' Dean thought about that, and suddenly Harry Potter didn't seem quite so threatening. Dean pictured a young Sam being told he was a wizard, or suddenly discovering he had weird powers... The power didn't make them evil; it was what you did with it. Dean would hold off judgement, but he wouldn't give his trust easily either.

'I must get back to Heaven,' Castiel suddenly announced. 'Thank you for your help,' he said to Harry, who looked surprised at the acknowledgement. 'Even if it actually destroyed any hope of an agreement between our people.' Before Harry, Sam or Dean could say anything to that, they the latter two were back in the motel room, without Castiel.

'Wow,' Sam said. He looked at Dean, who just shook his head and headed for the bathroom.

'I need a shower and a long night's sleep,' he muttered. 'Then maybe this whole thing will turn out to be a dream.' When Dean closed the door behind him, Sam sat down on the bed and stared at his hands.


	2. Across The Pond

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Because some of you might be curious: "God's Permission" refers to the three things needed for witches to exist in the infamous book Malleus Maleficarum. This is a big witch hunting book from the Middle Ages. The three things were witchcraft, the devil and God's permission. In this story God's permission also refers to the problem with free will vs. destiny or prophecy. Both Harry Potter and Supernatural explore this conundrum a lot, and I guess that's why I feel these two fandoms could do really well together. 
> 
> PS: If you'd like to read something fun and less wikipedia-y about the Malleus Maleficarum, I highly recommend "The Last Witchfinder" by James Morrow. One of the main character is Benjamin Franklin, and I love it when authors mix historical facts and fiction.

Harry knew he should have insisted on going with the Winchesters. If only to provide a counter-point to the Angel's presence. Harry may be more reasonable than the majority of the wizarding community, but he didn't trust an Angel longer than he could throw one, without magic. They were too different, and different species naturally had different interests. This didn't mean they shouldn't work together when they actually had a mutual goal, like making sure the demons didn't win. Harry had been in the presence of both Angels and demons. While he couldn't help but doubt that they were soldiers of God, he damn well knew demons weren't even close to being a regular supernatural species, with good and bad individuals among the population. No, demons, he knew very well, were just pure evil.

It wasn't Harry's muggle childhood that made him slightly more open. In fact most muggle-borns were much more sceptical of Angels than the purebloods. Most muggleborns didn't even believe in Angels. The cease-fire had ended any interaction between the two, so very few wizards or witches had actually seen an Angel. Harry had, though, during the war.

He didn't want to think about that right now. He had to check on Hermione and assess the situation he had left at the Ministry.

It seemed most people were incapable of learning lessons from history – the thought flitted through his head as he made everything ready so he could leave at a moment's notice.

He flooed over to Hermione and Ron's house, not a stone's throw away from the Burrow. It had been built to house the pair's expected family, but that was still months off. All was silent inside.

Harry sat down to wait in a cosy chair. Everything in the small two-story cottage was cosy yet practical. A perfect blend of Hermione and Ron's styling.

It was only a couple of minutes later that Hermione showed up. She looked slightly rumpled and tired. Harry rose immediately, but she waved him back down.

'I'm fine,' she insisted. 'The interrogation went smoothly and quickly, even more so than expected.' She gave a great sigh and sat down on the couch directly opposite the fireplace. 'There's a warrant out for your arrest.' Harry nodded at this; it had been expected. Hermione hadn't liked Harry's determination to keep Sam Winchester out of Azkaban, but she hadn't stopped him and that said more than any help she could have provided. 'Want to share how you apparate through the wards?' she asked casually. Harry gave a half smile and she chuckled, knowing he couldn't really explain it. She just liked to tease him that he was holding back some great magical secret. He wasn't. It was... brute force. That was the only way he could explain it if he had to.

'You're really going to America?' she asked and he nodded again. There was nowhere else he could be reasonably safe from the Ministry and be of some help in the coming events- whatever they turned out to be.

America had been declared no-man's land over two millennia ago. There were magical communities in America at the time, but these had been integrated with the muggle societies much more so than in other parts of the world. It was probably this integration that was the source of their downfall. Without separate wizarding leaders they had had no say in the cease-fire agreement.

With demons and other supernatural beings rather going there than risk the wrath of the more powerful European and Asian communities, the magical people there soon weakened. Now only a few individuals existed with small links to their magical pasts. Psychics, shamans, and the demon-worshipping witches, regarded as perversions by the rest of the magical world, and rarely spoken of in polite company.

More than two millennia ago when the monotheistic religions had slowly started to come out of obscurity, the wizarding communities in both Europe and Asia began to fear for the muggles. They believed the religions were tools of propaganda, used by the Angels to make muggles foot soldiers for their God.

The wizarding world feared what they perceived as potential hostility to outsiders within these religions, which would eventually evolve into a fairly explicit hatred of all magic. Wizard historians debate to this day if there was ever truly an open war between Angels and wizards, but battles were fought. No one recorded who first decided to negotiate, but a cease-fire was put into affect. The religious muggles could live in peace, the wizards would not be so much as spoken to by Angels or demons, and America would be the one place no official government would reside. It became a free for all place, and if wizards or witches ventured there it was mostly to escape the law.

America was dangerous territory for a lone wizard, but Harry knew the Ministry would never order an investigation into anything outside their borders. At least not officially. Considering how much they wanted to get himself and Sam Winchester into custody, the Ministry would no doubt send Aurors off the record. The wizarding world was still officially highly closed off.

The rest of the magical world outside of Britain agreed. After the war they seemed to integrate even more, closing their borders against anything muggle which could potentially be tainted by demons or angels. It seemed that the war against prejudice had only served to make everyone more so.

'Are you going straight away?' Hermione asked, clearly thinking of Ron.

'Will he speak to me? He's probably heard about what happened.'

'He may not agree with what you did, but he'll always be your friend,' she gently reminded him. Harry would like to keep faith in Ron, but he also understood where his friend was coming from. He had been raised with ancient battle-tales, from before the time of Merlin. The Angels were duping the muggles, it was said, to believe in their strange and invisible God. The demons were either in cahoots with them or stood as a third power wanting to simply destroy the world, it depended on who told the story.

Harry sighed and decided to wait. He might not return to Britain for some time. It wouldn't be fair to leave without saying goodbye.

They didn't have to wait long as it turned out Ron had headed home the moment he had heard about the incident. He had stopped at the Burrow to reassure Molly and Arthur, and then walked home, probably to clear his head. He looked unsurprised to see Harry in his living room.

'You realise this makes us accomplices?' he commented while he took off his outer robe and hung it on a hook by the door.

'Ron,' Hermione admonished.

'He's right,' Harry said. 'I'm putting you in an unfair situation.'

'You did the right thing,' Hermione said, which surprised Harry since she hadn't openly agreed with him before. He hoped he wasn't causing strife between her and Ron. Ron just sighed and looked grumpy. He went into the kitchen without a word. Harry and Hermione exchanged a glance and Harry decided to follow.

Ron was staring into the cold cabinet, perhaps trying to decide if he really wanted a stronger drink.

'I should leave straight away,' Harry said, trying not to fidget. 'I just wanted to say goodbye. I don't know when I'll be able to come back.'

'Try never,' Ron muttered, finally deciding on a butter beer. He slammed the cabinet door a little forcefully, before sitting heavily in a kitchen chair. He took a long sip. 'Do you like being a wanted criminal, is that it?' Harry couldn't help but smile at Ron's grumpy tone. If he had been truly mad he would have been yelling. Harry sat down across from him.

'Things are happening, Ron,' he tried to explain. 'The apocalypse isn't just over and done with. The demons, the Angels, some of them, if not most of them, are still on that path. We can't just keep sitting these battles out. Voldemort was part of something much bigger, and that's not over. This is the entire earth we're talking about.'

'And freeing some muggle, risking your own freedom and then disappearing to nowhere? How is that going to convince people you've not just finally cracked?'

'The good of the many is important, but sometimes what it does to us as people isn't worth it. I had to save Sam Winchester.' He couldn't really explained it in another way. Ron didn't look like he really understood, and maybe Harry didn't either. He just knew the feeling so well; being accused of being the enemy. Locking up Sam Winchester would save no one- it might even hurt them all in the end. The Winchesters were linked to it all, Harry knew; he had heard the tales of their defeat of Lucifer. He didn't doubt that they would be key in whatever came next.

'I have to go,' Harry said, suddenly eager to get across the pond and start looking for them. Hopefully he would find them long before the Ministry decided to actually send someone into no man's land. He could cast wards around them, hell maybe even a Fidelius, though they weren't likely to agree with that. He had to convince them they were on the same side.

'Keep in touch,' Ron said suddenly, surprising Harry. 'If it's safe, of course,' he added. Harry smiled and rose, while Ron did the same. They hugged briefly and Harry left before either of them could say more. Perhaps they had drifted apart since Voldemort's defeat, but Harry still felt horrible for leaving his friends. He shared a much more tear-filled goodbye with Hermione, and then departed.

He flooed back to Grimmauld Place and grabbed his already packed rucksack. It was much like Hermione's purse during their camping trip in seventh year. He had everything he needed, hopefully. He didn't bother locking up much, just a few powerful wards in case someone was stupid enough to try something. He flooed a pub he had already investigated not far from Land's End. He thought it was poetic more than convenient. He walked out to Land's End, the better to not leave any trace and to prepare himself. From there he Apparated across the great pond. For him it wasn't that strenuous, but a normal wizard would have to travel via Apparition points, either over Greenland or on magical stations in the sea, placed there for scientific purposes. Harry arrived on the shores of New England immediately. He made a few detours just in case, always cautious even though he doubted anyone could have followed him. He stopped by Canada, Mexico and California before finally landing in Kansas.

He knew this was where it had all started for the Winchesters. He knew they probably weren't there now, but he was curious. Much like his story had started in a unremarkable home, the Winchester brothers had once had normal lives forever changed by the death of a parent. He knew their father had died during a hunt, but not much else about the man. He knew Sam and Dean had been picked by the Angels to be the vessels that would fight in the apocalypse, Michael and Lucifer. He knew Sam had cast himself into the cage to stop it. A third brother, Adam, had also been pulled in. Apparently he had taken Dean's place at some point.

What he didn't know was what kind of people they really were. Did they understand how their lives had become entwined with the destiny of the whole world? Did they resent it as much as he did his own destiny? Or did they like being individuals of such importance? To Harry the idea seemed impossible. He didn't feel important- he just did what was required of him, in his own way of course.

The Winchesters had been around the supernatural for so long that they left an undeniable imprint, but they had been gone from this house for too long. Harry scanned the outside of the house and found definite ghost residue and the wounds from the demonic presence – the event that had started it all.

He didn't enter the house, but he pictured the scene. A crib, a mother desperate to save her child. He wondered if his own fate would have been different if he had had a brother. A big brother to protect him, to help him, to save him even? He stomped down the feeling of envy and reasoned he had friends just as important- well, that wasn't exactly true. He was here alone, wasn't he?

He Apparated to his contact in Las Vegas, Nevada: A wizard he had managed to contact- he hadn't even bothered finding out why the man was hiding, but if anyone could tell him were hunters hunted, it was him.

He just hoped he found the Winchesters before something else did.

XXX

Dean didn't usual remember his dreams. Nightmares were always with him, but regular dreams? He couldn't remember the last time. As he awoke now his mind was filled with weird people.

Not just weird, wizards. Robe-wearing, wand-waving, abracadabra-wizards.

His head hurt. He groaned as he sat up, taking in the slightly smelly motel room that hadn't been redecorated since it was built in the 70s, probably. He heard the shower running and assumed Sam was in there... and not in prison.

That was when he realised it had all been real. Every bizarre thing. A bunch of Merlin-impersonators had actually tried to put his brother in prison for having a weird-looking aura.

Except for one bright-eyed kid, who looked even more wet behind the ears than Sam did when he pouted. Harry Potter? Dean snorted at the name. Sounded like a Disney movie all right. The innocent, yet determined boy-hero went off on a quest to save the princess. Oh, he couldn't wait to point out to Sam who the princess was.

Just then the bathroom door opened and the princess stepped out, fully clothed but with wet hair. Dean's mood dropped immediately upon seeing his brother's face.

'Feeling ok?' he asked. He had found himself being the one asking that lately, ever since Sam returned from hell. He knew he had hated when Sam had asked him that constantly, but it was like his mouth asked before his brain told it to shut up and just let Sam deal.

'Fine,' Sam said and started packing. 'We should head out,' he said, stuffing dirty laundry in his duffle bag.

'We got somewhere we need to be?' Dean asked, trying to remember if they'd already found another hunt.

'We agreed we'd head to Bobby's. We promised him we wouldn't pass within three hours of him and not show our faces.' Dean had forgotten, but he understood Bobby – or he thought he did. He had a sneaking suspicion that Bobby still thought Sam could get pulled back into hell at any moment. Dean mostly thought this cause he found himself worrying about the same thing. They didn't know how Sam had gotten out, so who was to say he couldn't be put right back at a moment's notice?

Back in the car, Dean tried to start a conversation about the last hunt. A small vampire coven trying to escape notice by abducting old people who lived alone. They'd given themselves away when they had started recruiting. According to Sam's research they had been happily snacking on old folks who no one missed for years. They hadn't explained why the coven had suddenly felt the need to increase their ranks. It gnawed at Dean, but not enough to get his mind off the way Sam was tight-lipped and tense.

'You know that aura reading stuff was total bullshit, right?' Dean finally said, breaking an almost thirty minute silence. Sam jerked and his head snapped up to stare at Dean. He seemed to take a breath before answering.

'Cause you're the expert on auras?' he asked sarcastically.

'Cause the kid who saved us probably broke the law getting us out of there.'

'And why is he the one who's right?'

'Cause we'd know if Lucifer was hitching a ride inside you,' Dean said, trying to sound reasonable. 'Remember what Cas said? Lucifer is an Angel, not some demon. You know what it's like having him inside you, right?' Dean hated using those words, but he just wanted to make his point and be done with it. 'Do you really believe he could be in you without you knowing?' He tried casting a few glances at Sam while keeping the road in view. His little brother looked like he was trying to find a flaw in Dean's logic. Usually, he did, but this time he sighed in defeat. Not exactly the reassured face Dean was hoping to get, but he'd take it.

'Castiel said the Angels would know if Lucifer got out,' Sam said quietly and Dean nodded. 'But why did I get out?' Sam had asked that question a million times, only a few hundred times less than Dean or Bobby. None of them had any answers, and neither did Cas. It weighed them all down. Sam had spent only three weeks in the cage before he suddenly showed up on Lisa's doorstep. Dean would never forget the way his heart damn near went out-

_Some months earlier..._

Dean was watching television with Ben. It had been a rough three weeks. Yesterday he'd actually gone for a job interview. That had been weird. He didn't know if he'd get any work. Maybe at a construction site downtown. He knew he should be out looking right now, but the thought of actually starting this new, normal life was silently terrifying him.

A knock at the door brought Lisa out of the kitchen. Dean sipped his beer and laughed when Ben did to show he was paying attention, though he wasn't really. He was always tense when someone knocked unexpectedly. He had forced himself to let Lisa answer the door when it was natural for her to do so, but he still didn't like it. He knew he scared her when he insisted on doing it all the time, though, so he remained seated.

'Dean? Dean, get out here.' The shock in Lisa's voice had him in hunt-mode immediately. He got up quickly, told Ben quietly to stay put, though the kid barely noticed, and tried to figure out how to get the gun out of the top shelf in the hallway closet without the person- or thing- at the door noticing. Lisa stood still by the door so whatever it was hadn't attacked. She was clearly frightened, on the verge of slamming the door closed. Dean stepped up behind her and tried to push her out of the way. Before he could do that, however, he spotted what was standing on the doorstep.

Sam.

For a heart-stopping moment, Dean actually believed his brother was alive and _right there_. It felt like for that split second he would run out and hug his kid brother and everything would be right again. Then the real world crashed back in.

Whatever it was impersonating Sam stood dejectedly on the front steps. He looked exactly the same as the day Sam had jumped into hell, down to the same clothes. He wore a desperate expression, one Dean had seen countless times on Sam when things seemed hopeless or when he was trying to get his brother to believe him.

'Get inside,' Dean told Lisa. She didn't hesitate and snapped into action. Dean heard her urge Ben further into the house. He kept the door half closed, cursing himself for not getting the gun out.

'Dean,' fake-Sam said. 'It's me, I swear it, Dean, it's me.'

'I believe you,' Dean said, hoping to lull the thing into a false sense of security. If anything, though, this statement made Sam's face even more sad and desperate.

'No, you don't,' it said. 'You'd be an idiot if you did and I know you're not. Just, do the tests, please. Get some holy water, a demon trap, everything.' Dean had drawn a demon trap under the rug in the hallway. He had holy water in the closet by the gun. The rest was in the trunk of the Impala in the garage. But what if the thing wanted him to invite it in? What if it made straight for Lisa and Ben?

On the other hand, if it was a demon it would be trapped before it got that far. Dean made a decision. He slammed the door shut as quickly as he could and lunged for the hallway closet, getting the gun and holy water in hand in less than two seconds. The door was open again on the third and he aimed the gun at it's head. The Sam-like face was sad, but resigned. Dean could see it swallow heavily, but that was the only sign of fear. The desperate look, screaming "believe me" was still there. Dean was sure the thing's next move was the pout.

'Please, do the tests,' it repeated. Dean held up the small flask of holy water before tossing it. The Sam look-alike didn't hesitate and visibly gulped down the whole bottle. Dean swallowed, feeling suddenly parched.

'Come in, slowly,' he said. He backed away, keeping the gun steady. Sam, who could still be a creature of some kind, stepped slowly after. Dean backed all the way down the hall. He noted Sam glanced around very human-like, as if he couldn't help being curious about the house. Before Dean even realised it, Sam had stepped straight over the rug and demon trap. Okay, so not a demon. Dean clenched his jaw. There were other tests.

'In the kitchen,' he barked, gesturing with his shoulder to the right. He watched as Sam- or whatever it was- entered the kitchen.

'This is nice.' Dean thought he heard it murmur.

'Sit down,' he ordered harshly, gesturing with the gun at the stool by the counter. Sam sat down, looking far too big for the tall stool. He was still looking around.

Dean went round the counter and started rummaging in a drawer with one hand, finally finding a silver fork. He threw it to the counter in front of Sam.

'Pick it up.' Sam obeyed and touched it without harm coming to him. He pressed in against his neck for good measure. His skin came away clean and unblemished. Dean thought it was time to get serious.

He checked for vampirism, shapeshifting and even asked Sam to cut himself so they could see how the blood looked, smelled and tasted. He pulled off hair as well and burned it. It reacted as it should. He did every test he could think of and Sam passed them all.

He was running out of tests, Dean realised, and Sam was looking more and more hopeful. Dean wouldn't be beaten, however, and started reciting an exorcism for good measure. Sam sat calmly through it all.

'Come with me.' It took a while to get into the garage with the gun trained on Sam, but they managed. Lisa and Ben had gone upstairs, thank God. Dean opened the trunk of the Impala. He kept up glancing at Sam to make sure, but the look-alike only stared at the car with open affection. Dean found the holy oil and poured a small amount in a circle just big enough for a person to stand in.

'Get in.' Sam obeyed with a sigh. Dean lit the fire.

'Hey! I do burn, you know,' Sam grouched. The circle completed itself quickly and for half a second Dean was sure he had the bastard. Then Sam jumped out to avoid getting burned. He patted himself down just in case, some of his clothes smoking. The holy oil continued to burn while the brothers stared at each other.

Dean was out of tests. There might be more if he looked them up. He could call Bobby, do some research.

'It's me,' Sam pleaded. 'Come on, Dean, you've done every test. It's me!'

'People don't just waltz out of hell,' Dean bit out, gun still trained, though it was sagging just a bit. 'Well, most don't,' he corrected, thinking of himself. 'And they certainly don't waltz out of a cage designed to hold the fucking devil.'

Sam's jaw clenched in that particular Winchester way and Dean almost lowered his gun.

'I know it sounds crazy, but I don't know how I got out. I just woke up in the field. I got myself to the nearest town, looked up Lisa online and came here. I... well, I hoped you'd kept your promise.' At the mention of the promise Dean's hands were feeling so heavy that he lowered the gun. He still kept his finger at the ready, but pointed at the concrete floor.

'Sam?' Dean wanted to believe, so badly.

'Dean.' The name sounded just like it had every time Sam said it, whenever he was desperate or in trouble. His eyes shone with recognizable emotions, as if he hadn't been gone at all. He was the exact same puppy-dog-eyed little brother Dean used to look at every day.

'I... I believe you.'

A week later and it was clear to everyone involved that Sam and Dean needed to be back on the road, hunting and trying to figure out what had pulled Sam out. Dean and Lisa had said their goodbyes. A part of Dean was relieved. The thought of working nine to five had not appealed to him. Being with Lisa and Ben had been amazing, but it hadn't felt real. It was like a vacation in an alternative reality. Maybe a part of him knew or hoped Sam was coming back. Or maybe he just wasn't made for normal.

They drove straight to Bobby's.


	3. Hunting

Dean and Sam arrived slightly less tense at Bobby's after a long and uneventful drive. The man came out on the porch as the car drove up. He scrutinized the brothers as they neared. Sam and Dean got out, both looking tired and uncomfortable still. They mounted the stairs to the porch.

'What happened?' Bobby asked. At Dean's raised eyebrow he added; 'You look like more shit than usual, so something must've happened.' The brothers exchanged glances.

'It's a long story,' Dean said. They all trudged inside.

'I'll get us some beers,' Bobby said.

The story was tedious to tell, and they tried to keep the excitement to a minimum, but still the old hunter gave them many dubious looks and scoffs. He believed them, eventually, though he remained real skeptical of the "non demonic wizards."

'So even Angels think these guys are untrustworthy?'

'Yeah, but...' Dean said with a shrug, 'I don't exactly think Angels are trustworthy either...'

'They seemed like normal people,' Sam said quietly. He had let Dean do most of the talking until now. 'Some bad, some good.'

'A lot of stupid fucks,' Dean muttered.

'This Harry Potter guy,' Bobby began, taking a swig of beer and sitting back more comfortably in his chair. 'He helped you simply out of the goodness of his heart?'

'He was different,' Sam said. He glanced at Dean, who silently gestured for him to continue. 'He was trying to do the right thing. That girl too, Hermione, she was on our side, I think.' They all fell silent for a moment, letting the information digest.

'I don't know,' Bobby said eventually. 'Just when you think this world can't be any more fucked up...' The three hunters let that hang in the air, all silently agreeing. They were all tired, stretched too thin, and probably damaged beyond repair.

'You didn't do anything stupid, did you Sam?' Bobby asked suddenly, 'like believe them?' Sam huffed a small laugh and shook his head.

'I think I would know if I had the Devil inside me,' he said. Dean didn't say anything to that and they drank their beers.

XXX

Harry was annoyed. The wizard he had found in Las Vegas had been a drunk who was hiding from the Ministry due to fraud. He had been selling faulty cauldrons - wouldn't Percy be shocked. He had, thank Merlin, provided Harry with information on how muggle hunters worked: by investigating weird occurrences usually found in local newspapers. Some had specialities, like vampires, but most were jack-of-all-trades kind of guys. There were a lot of restless spirits and angry ghosts, more than enough to provide work for a fairly big network of independent hunters. The theory of why muggle ghosts had a higher frequency of restlessness compared to wizard ghosts was simply a lack of knowledge of the ghost-state. When muggles died, the theory went that their spirits were more confused, especially after violent deaths. Wizards could become restless spirits too, of course, but growing up among well-adjusted ghosts made you a bit more prepared for the choice after death. Still, you always had a few Shrieking Shacks here and there. Muggles just had a lot more of them.

Luckily, Harry had another tool he was now using to locate the Winchesters. He had performed several scanning spells on Sam, and he had therefore hoped he could use the Point Me spell. A wizard of normal power levels would have trouble getting it to work over the vast distances in America, but Harry had a bit more power at his disposal.

He Apparated to what he reckoned was the middle of the country. Now all he had to do was get the Point Me spell to work, and follow the direction it led him to the nearest small town. Of course the Winchesters wouldn't stay in one place, so Harry would have to redo the Point Me at every stop, hopefully narrowing in on them eventually. Considering how much faster he travelled, though, he knew he had a chance at least.

He would check for supernatural activity, maybe read the local news to find recent unexplained phenomenon. Hell, perhaps he'd do a little hunting himself. Anything that might lead him to either the Winchesters or other hunters that might know more.

All he could do was take his time, and do it right.

XXX

'Maybe you two should stay put for awhile,' Bobby suggested the next morning over breakfast. Dean looked up, barely pausing in eating his cereal.

'What?'

'Just take a break.'

'Why?' Dean asked. Sam was suspiciously quiet, keeping his eyes on his food. Dean chewed slowly as he watched Bobby shrug.

'You might want to lay low with a bunch of crazy wizards after you.'

'Yeah, a vacation sounds perfect. We'll go to the beach, get a nice tan going and wait for the wizards to find us and haul our asses back to prison.' Bobby rolled his eyes at Dean's over-the-top sarcasm.

'Jesus, I just thought you'd like a break,' he grouched. 'You've been working pretty hard since...' Since Sam returned. They didn't like to mention it, or talk about it. There wasn't anything to talk about when none of them had any answers.

'We should keep busy,' Sam spoke up. Dean, busy chewing, made a gesture with his head as if to say "see!" Bobby sighed, got up abruptly and left. The brothers frowned in confusion, but then he came back with a printed newspaper article, throwing it on the kitchen table.

'There's a case, since you're so keen on working,' he said, going over to the counter to get more coffee. Sam picked up the paper and scanned it. 'Found it this morning, actually, so I don't know much.'

'Half a body found, police baffled,' Sam murmured.

'Top or bottom half?' Dean asked. Sam shook his head. He had a disgusted look on his face.

'He was split down the middle,' he explained. Dean stopped eating for half a second before giving a small shake of his head and stuffing more cereal in his mouth. 'Police can't explain how it was done, or why. He was found by a lake, no sign of a struggle or anything.'

'Sounds like weird all right.'

'He was a local man, Rob Williamson, a high-school teacher, but more known as a local historian. He was identified by his wife Daisy ... he was found naked, just half his body...'

'You got any idea what it might be?' Dean asked Bobby.

'I've been searching, but no luck yet.'

'How far?'

'About a day's drive,' Sam said.

'Let's go.'

XXX

They arrived in a small town around midnight the next day and checked into the standard rundown motel. Sam did research well into the night while Dean channel-surfed. Sam couldn't find any monster that preferred to eat exactly half of its victims. They couldn't really do anything more without seeing the body.

Come morning they got a better look around. They didn't bother taking in the sights, however, and headed straight for their half-body.

Dean could tell immediately that people were on edge. Understandable, considering the situation. A half-body was weird no matter where it turned up, but in a place like this it wasn't likely they got a lot of murders, let alone freaky ones like this. They found the old one story, brick building. It looked more like a really old school than a morgue. They pulled the FBI badges at the desk. The young woman gave them a look of relief when they mentioned why they were there, which was kinda odd, but they weren't going to complain.

'Who called you?' she asked. Sam shot Dean a look, wondering who would lie.

'You know,' Dean said with his most charming smile, 'I forget the name. Can we just take a look at the body?'

'Oh, uh,' she floundered, 'they called you before the body disappeared?' Dean's eyebrows shot up.

'Disappeared?'

'Yes, uh... Oh, Dr. Manfield.' The Winchesters followed her gaze to a white-coat coming down the corridor. 'These are FBI agents, they came to look at the body...' The man's eyebrows rose. He was middle-aged and average-looking, but his eyes looked haunted.

'They didn't tell you?'

'When did the body disappear?' Dean asked.

'Just a few hours after I had finished my preliminary investigation,' the doctor said with a shake of his head.

'And how exactly did it... leave?' Dean asked. The man beckoned them after him as he went into the morgue itself.

'I was outside talking to the Sheriff,' Dr. Manfield explained as they walked. 'The body was lying on the examination table, but when I came back it was gone.'

Inside they found the place sterile and empty. There was a fairly large window looking a bit out of place opposite the door. The place looked like it had been converted from something else some time ago. 'That window was open,' the doctor nodded towards it. It was a good four feet above the floor and while big enough for a man to easily climb through, it didn't exactly look convenient.

'So... the body... jumped out the window?' Dean asked. Sam shot him an annoyed look, which Dean returned with an unspoken "what?"

'Obviously, whoever took the first half came back for the second,' the doctor explained. He looked rather ill. 'Have you spoken to the Sheriff?'

'Not yet,' Sam said, 'Can you tell us anything about the body? Do you know how it was cut?'

'It's was the weirdest thing...' Dr. Manfield said, shaking his head. 'It was clear-cut, but the wounds were all cauterized. He looked more like a wax model than a person...' He looked like he was about to throw up, so Dean and Sam made their excuses and headed out to find the Sheriff.

The man in question was a fairly young, newly appointed Sheriff who was clearly feeling out of his depth with the first homicide on his watch, and an inexplicable one at that. He gladly invited them into his office, seeming to assume someone had made the call.

'I am glad you boys are here,' he said, shaking their hands in turn before offering them a seat. 'You sure got here real quick.'

'Yeah, well, this was a weird one...' Dean trailed off at the Sheriff's nodding.

'I've never seen anything- hell, I didn't even know something like this was possible,' the Sheriff admitted. Sam leaned forward in his seat, putting on his concerned investigator face.

'Do you have any suspects?'

'To be honest, without a body we don't have much to go on. I haven't even told the wife the body is missing yet.' The Sheriff looked embarrassed. 'I should probably head over there soon.'

'We'll need to talk to her,' Dean said. The Sheriff wrote down her address for them. 'Anyone else?'

'There were rumours about an affair, just rumours mind you, with a local girl,' the Sheriff said reluctantly, 'but I don't see how anyone, let alone a girl, could have done something like this. Rob was a respected man around these parts. He wrote the book on this place, literally. I never read it, but he wrote the entire history of this place.'

'Can we get the name of the girl?'

'I'm sure she didn't do it. The logistics alone-'

'We still need to talk to her.' The Sheriff looked reluctant. To be honest, Dean didn't think the girl was the baddie here. Angry wife discovering an infidelity, however...

'Mary Stevens, twenty years old, but still lives with her parents,' the Sheriff explained. He wrote down the name and address. Dean pocketed the note.

It was clear they weren't going to get much more sense out of the young man. He kept on talking about the grotesqueness of the body, and seemed even more likely to throw up than the white-coat, so Dean and Sam decided to let him deal for a bit and go talk to the wife.

On their way there, they compared notes.

'So, what do we think here?' Dean began, checking the street names to make sure they were going the right way. 'Vengeful spirit? The guy was an expert on the history around here, maybe he woke something up.'

'Sure, that's possible, but it doesn't explain where the body went,' Sam pointed out.

'Ghosts don't usually bother with kidnapping people they've already killed,' Dean agreed.

'Maybe this isn't our thing. Maybe it's just one seriously fucked up person.'

'A person that climbed in that window, up a brick-wall no less, grabbed half a body and managed to get both it and himself out again before the doc came back?'

'A demon?'

'Maybe,' Dean agreed. They didn't like the thought of a demon, but they both knew there wasn't much that they had come across before that could do something like this.

The house was fairly big for just a middle-aged couple, but very well kept. It had an almost Stepford-quality that didn't sit well with Dean. He never liked these types of houses. Too perfect. The garden was green and lush. Behind the house lay the forest, surrounding the north part of the town. They spotted several flowers left on the porch, with notes of condolences. Perhaps the wife wasn't home- or didn't want to open the door.

'A pillar of the community,' Dean muttered, quoting the newspaper article.

'Probably an old local family,' Sam replied.

'Why don't you go talk to her and I'll check out where the guy worked, see if I can spot someone suspicious.'

'Why don't you want to talk to her?' Sam asked, frowning, 'If it's witchcraft then she's our main suspect.'

'We don't know what it is,' Dean said reasonably. 'And you're better with all the comforting stuff. We'll meet back on main-street. I saw a place that probably served burgers.' Sam rolled his eyes, but got out, watching for a moment as Dean drove away.

There wasn't even a doorbell, just an ornate knocker. Sam waited a long time, but finally the door opened. She was somewhere between forty and fifty, tight-lipped and proper. Sam knew the type, but she didn't seem cold, just reserved.

'Can I help you?' she asked. She adjusted her necklace; probably a nervous habit. She wore a pale pink blouse and knee-length brown skirt. She looked like a cross between a politician's wife and a librarian.

'I'm Agent Bateman, FBI,' Sam said, his face the picture of concern even as he showed his badge. 'I need to speak with you about your husband.'

'You better come inside.' Her face didn't betray any surprise or anxiety. In fact, she seemed tired if anything. Sam followed her inside.

XXX

They met for lunch and noticed the conversations among the locals seemed to be conducted in whispers.

'This place is spooked,' Dean commented.

'Yeah, everyone's on edge.'

'What'd you get out of the wife?' Sam shifted in his seat. He looked reluctant to answer.

'She seemed... rehearsed, like she had an answer for everything. Too calm, like she wasn't really that sad.'

'So, crazy jealous wife dabbling in witchcraft?' Sam shook his head.

'She didn't seem the type. She even let me look around the house. I didn't find any signs, no books, no hexbags, nothing unusual.'

'She could be hiding it somewhere else.'

'Yeah, but... she told me she knew about the affair, and that they were trying to move on only the girl was kinda obsessed, calling in the middle of the night, harassing him at work.'

'So, jealous girlfriend?'

'Maybe. Seems a bit extreme, though, and why would she steal the rest of the body back?' The brothers lapsed into silence as they pondered things. 'I still think it's something else entirely. What did you find at the school?'

'Shocked and appalled,' Dean said with a sigh. 'Everyone is "shocked and appalled." Apparently the guy was well-liked, no enemies. His book's a bestseller around here. Everyone denied the affair; they all claim it was an innocent infatuation on her part and that he never did anything to encourage her.'

'They don't want to speak ill of the dead,' Sam muttered. Dean nodded. 'So, back to square one.'

'We're at square one,' Dean said, looking across the diner. 'She works here.'

'Do you know-' Sam stopped short when a young, very pretty blonde walked past them. She was wearing a black t-shirt with a band name neither of them recognized and pre-worn jeans with a small apron over. Her hair was long and loose. She set down several plates on the neighbouring table. There was no cheery "Here you go" nor any thanks from the old geezers sitting there. Sam noted her hands shook. They kept watching her until she disappeared into the kitchen.

'Should we talk to her now?'

'Nah, let's head to her house, look around before she has a chance to hide anything.' Sam agreed and they paid quickly before leaving.

XXX

The house was big and made in an old colonial-ish style, or maybe it was renovated, Dean wasn't exactly an expert. It looked pompous, that's what he did know.

It turned out the parents were home. They looked like they belonged in a commercial for some sort of medicine or insurance. They even opened the door with their arms other each other. It reminded Dean of the first pagan gods they had come across.

'Can we help you?' the woman asked with a strained smile. The Winchesters showed off their badges and the strained smiles turned into nervous frowns.

'Is your daughter home?' Sam asked. Dean thought they looked guilty enough.

'She works,' the mother said with pride. 'She's saving up for her own car, even though we offered, and Joe needed the help at the diner...'

'I'm sure she's very hardworking,' Sam placated them. 'She's not a suspect.'

'We would really just like to take a quick look at her room, just to get her off our list of persons of interest,' Dean cut in before they could answer.

'Oh, we respect her privacy,' the mother said, though the father was frowning. 'We never go in there without her permission.' Dean raised an eyebrow at that. What a bunch of idiots. Letting teenagers have free reign? He was all for privacy, but at least check for drugs on occasion.

'Look, this doesn't even have to be official. Just let us take a quick peak and we won't even bring her in for an interview.' That seemed to be incentive enough. After a quick whispered debate between the parents, they agreed.

The room was decorated in teenage-girl. It was a weird mix of pink stuff, hot topic clothes strewed everywhere (not that Dean knew what that was) and posters of indie bands. Dean had come across enough witches to know that the ones who liked to wear skulls on their clothes were rarely the ones who liked to use them in rituals. For some reason it was usually the Mary-Janes of the world who flipped over to the dark side.

'I guess we're back to the wife,' Dean commented as they searched.

'We might still find something,' Sam said. 'You never know.'

'Still doesn't explain how or why she took the rest of the body- um, Sam, teenage girls have a lot of stuff right?' Sam looked around the crowded room that barely had any space not covered in something.

'Yeah...'

'So why is this drawer completely empty?' Dean stepped back so Sam could look at the chest of drawers. The bottom one was empty.

'So, she discovers her spell worked and freaks out, gets rid of the stuff?' Sam asked, though he sounds doubtful.

'Dude, it makes perfect sense. He was trying to go back to his wife. Maybe she believed he couldn't chose between them, so she splits him literally down the middle.'

'Gross,' Sam muttered. 'I don't know. Why bother getting rid of this stuff if she knows her parents never come in here?'

'She's afraid of the cops, obviously.'

'What, the cops are gonna find some weird occult shit in her room and think that explains how a guy got cut in half?'

'Jealous lover into the occult or perfect Stepford wife, who're you gonna suspect?' Sam reluctantly nodded his head at that. 'Let's get back to the diner and interview her.'

They headed out, lying to the parents to reassure them.

They parked the car on main-street a few buildings down from the diner. As they were walking down the street Sam suddenly stopped short.

'Dean,' he said. Dean followed his brother's gaze. He wasn't entirely certain, but he thought he saw the girl in question hurrying down the street, looking like she was being chased by something. They took off on a run across the street and caught up with her fairly easily. Sam intercepted her first. He grabbed her shoulders and spun her around. She pulled out of his grasp, giving a shriek.

'Easy,' Sam yelped when she tried to hit him on instinct. He grabbed her wrists as they came down. 'We're here to help'.

'Oh, God, I'm going crazy,' she sobbed. Sam let go of her hands and she pressed them to her face. 'I don't understand. I haven't smoked anything today, but I saw him, I saw-' She gave a great sob. Dean exchanged a worried look with Sam, both of them wondering silently about her sanity as well.

'What did you see?' Sam asked, voice sympathetic.

'I- I don't know- Shit, you won't believe me.'

'Try us,' Dean said. She finally removed her hands and looked at them, taking in the suits.

'Who are you?'

'We're here to help,' Sam repeated. 'Did you see something... strange?' She glanced around as if terrified that whatever she saw would hop out at any moment.

'Last night, and just now, in the woods...' She nodded between two buildings to the woods beyond. 'He was there.'

'All of him?' Dean asked and she startled, staring at him with wide eyes.

'You... you believe me?'

'Do you know why something like this might have happened to him?' Sam asked, trying not to let his suspicion show.

'No, I heard about it,' she sniffed, rubbing at her eyes. 'Everyone loved him. He was... such an amazing person, and then-' She sobbed. Dean was getting rather tired of it.

'Wait...' Sam paused. Dean wondered what he had figured out. 'Did you say you hadn't smoked anything today?' Her eyes went wide again, this time with guilt.

'Um-'

'Look, we're FBI agents but we don't care about the weed. We just want to help you.' Her eyes were wide as saucers as he glanced back and forth between them.

'We're the real life Scully and Mulder,' Dean said by explanation. This seemed to actually relax her somewhat.

'Oh,' she said. 'Uh, yeah. You gotta smoke something to be able to live in this town, but I threw it all out this morning after I saw...'

'What did you see?' Sam asked again. The intensity in his eyes must have done the trick.

'Him,' she whispered. 'Half of him, outside in the garden last night. He was... he was trying to get in my room. I thought I was having some weird nightmare. I threw a book at him.' A hysterical laughter bubbled out of her. 'Then I saw him again, hopping between the trees, like he was following me...'

'He hopped?' Dean asked.

'He... God, I don't know how to explain it. He used his one arm as a second leg kind of, like a caterpillar you know? One arm forward and then the foot following, only really fast.' She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. 'I'm going insane.'

'Not yet,' Dean said. Sam turned to him.

'If it's following her...'

'Yeah,' Dean agreed with the unspoken sentiment. 'Okay. I'll stick with her and you go back to the wife's house and stake her out. She's obviously hiding something.' Sam nodded at this. 'I say we arm ourselves with gas and lighters, set the fucker on fire if we see it.'

'You're thinking it's some sort of zombie?'

'If it's hopping around I don't know what else, and we don't have time to research.'

'It's going after her specifically,' Sam pointed out.

'Yeah...' Neither of them knew what that meant, but both of them favoured sticking close to the suspected target and master-mind instead of doing research. Dean turned to the girl, still wide-eyed and sniffling. 'You need to go back to work, just do what you normally do. I'll stick close. If this thing has been sent after you, then I'll get it.' She nodded, dazed and turned to walk back to the diner. Dean gave Sam one last "be careful" look before heading after her.

Whatever this thing was, Dean was going to enjoy burning it.

XXX

Dean hung out at the diner, checking in with Sam every so often. It was already getting late, but the wife was still outside gardening. Dean followed the girl home, keeping his distance and a watchful eye on the woods. As she went inside he went round the back of the house. The woods appeared empty, but not eerily so. He could hear the birds. He wasn't getting that hunter-vibe at all.

This case was getting to him. Witches he had dealt with before, and sure, they did some fucked up shit, but this seemed beyond that. He didn't know why, but it smelled demonic.

Or maybe it wasn't demon-witches... maybe it was wizards-witches, or Disney-witches, whatever you were suppose to call them. Disney-witches sounded appropriate. Dean smiled to himself at this decision. He was kinda hoping he would meet one of them again so he could give them a proper ass-kicking for trying to put Sammy in prison.

He was just about to call Sam to check on his brother's progress when his phone rang.

'Dean,' that one word said everything Dean needed to know. He was already running round the house again and down the road. They had left the car parked on main-street, but luckily, the wife didn't live too far away so Dean made a run for it.

'I'm coming, Sammy,' Dean yelled into the phone even as he ran.

'It's not burning, Dean! I don't- fuck!' Dean heard a loud crash. He was just one house down when he saw the house was smoking. Something was burning, just not the half-dude.

He ran straight for door, which was already open, and into a chaotic living-room. A wing-backed chair was on fire, though it was quickly spreading to the curtains. Smoke was filling the room. On the floor by the couch lay the wife... well, half of her. One large window facing the backyard was broken.

'Sammy!' he called out as he stepped inside. Apart from the burning, he couldn't hear anything. He got a good look at the wife on the floor. Jesus, she wasn't half-gone yet, he realized as he stepped closer. Half her body was burning away, like the butt of a cigarette. Her clothes had apparently already burned away, considering the scorched carpet around her. Dean got a whiff of burned flesh and covered his nose.

'In here, Dean!' He leaped over the body the moment he heard Sam's voice from the kitchen.

Sam was sitting at the kitchen table, his right hand over a wound on his left arm. Another man was standing over him, waving a stick.

'Just move your hand so I can heal it,' he said.

'What the fuck is going on?' Dean asked.

'Hello again to you too,' Harry said, giving him a smile, as if they weren't standing in a building currently on fire with a soon-to-be half-woman in the other room. 'Looks like you've got a Nasnas on the loose.'


	4. A Demon's Deed

'A what?' Dean demanded, staring at Harry with disbelief. The wizard didn't answer and instead turned his attention back to Sam, who Dean suddenly remembered was hurt.

'Show me the wound, please,' Harry asked gently. Sam let go of his arm, teeth clenching when the blood started to flow. Both his jacket and shirt sleeve had been ripped. It looked like a bite from half a human mouth, Dean realised. Harry quickly waved his wand over the wound, murmuring a long string of latin neither hunter could quite catch. The wound started to close. Harry turned to the kitchen counter where a worn bag sat and rummaged through it, producing a small green glass bottle. 'Dittany, for the scar.'

'Thanks, but that's okay,' Sam said, taking the shreds of his shirt and wiping off the excess blood. 'I've already got more than my fair share. One more won't make a difference.' Personally, Dean would have taken the Dittany stuff. He actually didn't have that many scars anymore, or hadn't accumulated that many since Castiel had wiped him clean when pulling him from hell. 

'Okay, so what the hell is a Nasnas?' Dean asked, trying to get back to the matter at hand.

At first the wizard didn't react; he was staring at Sam's wound, watching as the hunter smoothed his fingers over the healing skin. Dean couldn't read the look, but he knew he didn't like it. 'Well?' he prompted. Harry finally turned away, putting the bottle back in the bag before facing Dean.

'I should probably put that fire out first,' Harry said. The brothers turned simultaneously towards the living room. Things were getting pretty heated in there. Harry, however, walked calmly towards the rising inferno, pointed his stick and cried: 'Aguamenti!' Water came out as if it was a fire-hose and Harry quickly put out the fire.

'One of the neighbours has probably called the cops,' Sam said, 'I think it ran- or hopped, for the woods.'

'Then let's head out.'

'We need to kill her, first,' Harry said, nodding towards the body in the living room. Dean followed the wizard's gaze to the half woman.

'She looks dead to me,' Dean commented, but he knew now it would wake up. Rob's body really had jumped out of the morgue on it's own.

'A Nasnas needs to be drowned,' Harry explained. 'There's a lake nearby.'

'Drowned?' Dean asked dubiously. 'Why drowned? What is this thing?'

'A Nasnas is the offspring of a human and a demon named Shikk. They can withstand fire fairly well, but don't like water much. Salt or holy water would be ideal, but the lake will have to do.' With that Harry waved his wand again and Dean jumped back when the half-body rose into the air. 'Come on.'

The three of them... three and a half, left by the back door and hurried to the woods. They followed the edge, keeping themselves hidden in case someone was out for a stroll, until they reached the lake.

'How can it be the offspring?' Dean asked as they neared the shores. Sam remained silent, throwing disgusted looks at the half-body. 'Rob seemed like a normal guy. Why'd he suddenly split in half?'

'If I remember correctly, and I admit I can't be one hundred percent about that,' Harry explained. 'Shikk comes to you if you summon him, usually in the form of someone you desire, promising you everything you want. I believe he loves to punish adulterers. After he mates with you, you are essentially infected and eventually you become a Nasnas, and can create more on your own.'

'So Rob summoned this thing?' Dean asked, once again disgusted and disappointed in humanity. Harry guided the hovering half-body out over the lake and lowered it down. It sank like a stone and Dean wondered if that was Harry's magic too.

'The last known location of Shikk was the fourth century, in the Middle-East. I only know of it because my friend Hermione studied up on practically every reference to demons during the war. We had a memorable discussion on this one. Not every demon likes his victims cut in half. Usually, in my experience, they actually prefer psychological torture just as much, if not more.' Dean wasn't able to read much in Harry's face, but he didn't like the way the young man said "in my experience."

'We should check Rob's research,' Sam spoke up. 'Maybe he came across it. He was a historian.'

'Wizarding sources say he was exorcised back to hell after he was hunted down in Jerusalem. Shikk most likely got out when the hell-gate opened, with all the rest.' Dean didn't bother asking how Harry knew about the hell-gate. The wizards seemed to know everything, like some creepy government agency.

'Before we bother finding out exactly how this thing got here, we should get rid of its... offspring,' Dean said with a grimace. 'Half of Rob is still out there.'

'Agreed,' Harry said, gazing into the forest. 'Is there anyone else Rob was close to?'

'Shit, Mary,' Dean said. 'We gotta get to her.' Harry cast another spell on the lake, explaining that he had anchored the Nasnas to the bottom. Since it didn't actually breathe, it needed to stay under much longer. It would decompose quickly in contact with water.

They hurried back to Mary's house, stopping by the car on the way to change weapons. Harry said he was pretty sure that the demon-killing knife Dean showed him would do damage. Sam took the shot-gun, hoping it would stun it at least. The place looked asleep so they went around back. Before they rounded the last corner, however, they heard definite scratching noises.

'It's here,' Harry whispered. 'Let me go first. I can bind it.' Dean didn't like sending in other people to do his job, but he had to admit Harry's powers seemed more than strong enough to deal with this thing. He checked around the corner to assess the situation. What he saw almost made him gag, and considering all the fucked up shit he had seen in his life, that was saying something.

The creature showing off its "bad" side. Dean could make out the organs cut in half, burnt and crispy looking. The half mouth was perhaps the worst. It opened and closed constantly, as if the creature was gasping for breath, but it made no sound. The only noise was the scratching it made as it clawed at the side of the house, trying to find purchase to climb up, hopping on one foot. The ground was littered with wines that had once decorated the side of the house. Either the creature had pulled them down trying to climb up, or Mary had ripped them down to prevent it from doing so.

Harry moved forward next to Dean, taking in the creature. He exchanged a look with the hunter, clearly saying "let me handle it." Dean nodded tightly, uncomfortable, but trying to be realistic. Harry raised his wand.

The light in the upstairs window came on at that moment. Mary appeared in the window, opening it and looking down, an agonized moan escaping her lips when she saw the creature.

'Oh, god, please, no,' she wailed. 'Go away.' The creature reacted to her voice, hoping on its one leg like a hyperactive dog, and reaching desperately towards her. 'GO AWAY!'

Harry decided it was now or never. He didn't like shouting spells, as that would alert the enemy, so he had trained himself in non-verbal magic. Some spells, unfortunately, make a slight noise the moment they were implemented. When ropes shot out of his wand, they came with a bang, and Mary's sudden scream as the creature reacted.

The creature was supernaturally fast and hopped out of the way just in time, almost four feet into the air and away from the house. For a moment Harry was at a loss as the creature turned its head at an odd angle to direct its one eye at them, wide and reddish.

'Jesus Christ,' Dean muttered. Sam stepped forward, aimed the shot-gun and fired. The creature wasn't faster than a load of salt and doubled over in pain when it was hit. Its head twisted upwards, mouth agape in a silent scream. Harry yelled the spell again and the ropes did their job this time. The creature fell to the side, ropes wound tight around it.

It rolled and twisted fiercely. Harry, the hunters right behind him, hurried towards it. He fired off a stunning spell, but it had no effect, and he cursed as the creature wriggled free. It hopped up and they all paused for a second to get into fighting positions, wondering what it was going to do next. Sam fired again. Prepared for the pain this time it charged in rage. Harry did the only thing he could think of- or rather he didn't think, he just reaction- and shot a bombardment spell.

The spell hit just as the creature took to the air with a great leap towards Sam. The hunter got off another round of salt before it literally exploded.

Although half of it had been burnt away, the rest of its innards were very much still intact, and the spray of blood alone was enough to cover all three. A few chunks added to the grotesqueness of the scene. Luckily, Mary had bolted the window some time ago and drawn the curtains, but the parents had surely heard the shots. 

'Fuck,' Sam said, gun still raised. He had gotten the worst of it.

'Dude,' Dean said, grimacing as he wiped a piece of intestine off his forehead.

'Sorry about that,' Harry said, making a face as well. 'I didn't know that would work. Hermione says I have a problem with throwing spells out without thinking.'

'Fuck,' Sam repeated. He seemed to be stuck. Dean shook himself like a wet dog and went over to survey the few bits that were left. There was a nice pile of goo in front of his brother.

'Next time,' Dean said, throwing a glance over his shoulder at the wizard. 'Warn a guy you're gonna try and blow someone up?'

'Noted,' Harry replied. He cast a Scrougify on himself. It didn't work nearly as well on blood as it did on dirt, but it got rid of the chunks. He did a few on Sam too, until the hunter finally lowered his gun.

'You okay, Sam?' Dean asked.

'Yeah,' Sam said resignedly, his voice telling them he hated the fact that getting exploded monster guts all over him was part of his job. He left without another word. Harry and Dean looked at each other, shrugged simultaneously, and followed.

They only reached the road before they realised it wasn't over.

The street lights started flickering, then turned off altogether, leaving them in almost pitch black conditions. The three of them were on alert in an instant.

'You know how powerful this Shikk demon is?' Dean asked. The only light that remained was from the few windows still shining. Dean sure hoped none of the residents got a front row seat to a demon battle. Hopefully they were all hidden inside calling their sheriff. 

'Fairly low-level... if I remember correctly,' Harry said with an apologetic shrug. 'If I can get a clear shot-'

'Low-level? I should be offended.' The three hunters spun around as one at the mocking voice. It was, rather predictably, the body of a beautiful woman. She was athletic looking and brown-haired, clad in average jeans and a ordinary blue blouse. Her eyes were rimmed with dark kohl, however, which didn't suit the rest of her. 'Three hunters, all for little ol' me? I'd say that's more than a low-level demon usually gets.'

Sam's gun suddenly went off and she hissed as the salt rammed into her. Dean charged with the knife just as Harry raised his wand.

'No, get out of the way!' Harry yelled, but it was too late. The demon recovered from the shot-gun just in time to block Dean's downward stab, taking hold of the knife by the blade. Dean cut deep into the hand, and the demon screamed in surprise that the blade actually had an effect, but then gritted its teeth against the pain. It punched Dean in the stomach, sending him sprawling hard on the asphalt, without the knife. Harry apparated at the same moment that Sam charged to help.

The demon held the knife aloft, a curious look on its face as it watched the strange sparks along the wound. Two things happened at once.

Sam stopped right in front of the thing and fired. The demon screamed in annoyance and rage, its face a grotesque distortion of the nice woman the body once belonged to. Harry reappeared directly behind it.

'Crucio!' Harry yelled, causing the demon's scream to go from rage to pure agony. 'Sam, get out of the way!' Sam's eyes widened as the demon fell to its knees. 'Crucio!' The demon screamed again. Sam backed away from the sight.

'A wizard!' Shikk gasped. 'You killed my babies! A wizard!' Harry held the spell with all his power, but it wasn't a spell he could hold for long due to its nature. He had just never gotten as proficient at it as he would have liked. Suddenly, Sam started muttering an exorcism, causing Harry to look up in surprise. He reacted quickly, however, and cast a rope spell. It wouldn't hold the demon for long, but it was already weakened, so perhaps there was a chance.

'No!' Shikk screamed, straining against the bonds, already starting to rip them.

'Stupify!' Harry yelled. It didn't work as it was suppose to on demons, but it shocked them for a few moments, and befuddled their brains. The demons's head rolled to the side, eyes fluttering. It recovered even faster than Harry would have liked.

'No! I'm not going back, not ever!' It screamed, but Sam was almost done. Its mouth burst open and the black smoke streamed forth. It took only seconds before the body fell to the side. Sam knelt instantly, checking for a pulse.

'I think she's dead,' Sam said sadly. Dean limped forward, hand clutching his stomach. He bent and picked up the knife.

'You tried,' Dean said. He looked at Harry. 'Thanks for the help.'

'You did the work. I was going to kill her,' Harry admitted. 'You gave her a chance.' Sam looked up at the wizard with a cautious curiosity.

'You have a spell that kills demons?'

'It forces the demon out of the body, much faster than an exorcism, and then you can, hopefully, trap the smokey stuff with with another spell,' Harry explained. 'But it kills the victim instantly. That's actually what it's really for. It's called the Killing Curse.'

'Definitely not Disney,' Dean muttered. He stared at the body, then glanced around at the houses. 'I don't think we have the time to take care of her. Police are probably round the corner.' Sure enough they heard sirens in the not-far-enough distance.

Harry suddenly placed his hands on either Winchester's shoulder and Dean's world once again narrowed to an excruciating point. They popped back to the Impala.

'Fuck,' Dean cursed. 'Warn a guy, would you?'

'Sorry,' Harry muttered. 'You should get your stuff and head out immediately.'

'You're coming with us,' Dean said gruffly, and Harry didn't argue. All three of them got into the car without comment and drove out of town to the motel.

Sam and Dean got out and headed for the motel room. Harry waited by the car as the Winchesters threw their stuff together. They returned quickly, throwing their duffles and weapons in the trunk.

'I can meet up with your later,' Harry offered.

'Just get in the car,' Dean said. They all did as he said, with Harry sprawled in the back.

'We'll head out of state, it's not far, and then we can...'

'Debrief?' Sam suggested.

'Yeah,' Dean said. Harry nodded tiredly, eyes drooping, and all three of them fell silent.

XXX

Dean woke up to the sound of the shower running. He was alone. He suspected Sam was in the shower, getting rid of the Nasnas goo. The wizard was gone, as was the transfigur-whatchamacallit bed that the kid had made our of a chair.

He got up and barged into the bathroom to take care of business. Sam didn't even acknowledge him so Dean resisted the urge to make a "you'll never be clean again" comment. When he came back to the bedroom Harry was sitting at the table.

'Where'd you go?'

'To our half-historian's office,' Harry replied. 'Just thought I'd check things out. Make sure we got everything.' Dean nodded. He knew it would have always bothered him if they didn't know the whole story. Sure, the case was over, but it wasn't really cracked until they knew everything.

'I assume you found something?'

'I'll explain when Sam's done.'

'Beer?' Dean asked. They had slept through the morning, so he figured they were entitled to a post-case drink.

'Sure.' The hunter got out a couple and handed one over as he sat himself down opposite the wizard. Harry took a swig and grimaced slightly.

'I think I prefer firewhisky,' he mumbled. Dean raised an eyebrow.

'No thanks,' Dean replied dryly, remembering his brief taste of the stuff. Harry huffed a small laugh, taking another drink. 'So,' Dean continued to fill the silence. 'Demons, huh?'

'I bloody well hate those things,' Harry muttered. 'Pain in my arse since before I can remember, only I didn't know it at the time.'

'But you ganked the sucker, right?' Dean asked, curious about Harry's world despite his wariness about it. 'The big one that they talked about at the trial.'

'I sent him back to hell,' Harry explained. 'Well, he actually sort of did it to himself.'

'Come again?'

'Much too long story,' Harry said with a shake of his head. 'Maybe I'll tell it some day.' Dean didn't want to push the matter so he put it out of his mind for later. After a few minutes of relatively easy silence punctuated only by the sipping of beers, Sam emerged from the bathroom, wearing only a towel.

'Sorry,' he muttered, going straight for his duffle.

'No problem,' Harry said. 'After living in a dorm for seven years, you've seen it all, and then some.' Dean smiled at that and Sam blushed a little as he disappeared into the bathroom again with his clothes.

'He seem okay to you?' Harry asked, a little too conversationally.

'Yeah. Why?' Dean asked, suspicious at once.

'No pain during the night? Feeling too hot?'

'Why?' Dean demanded. Harry put down his beer and looked straight into Dean's eyes.

'Shikk likes to mate with his victims, but the offspring themselves don't mate to create another.'

'They bite,' Dean realised, his heart jumping into his throat. 'Sam's-'

'He's okay,' Harry said. 'He should have started burning within minutes, but he didn't.' Dean sighed in relief, though he was still uncomfortable. He could easily suspect why Sam was immune to the Nasnas' bite. The question was whether to tell the wizard. 'You don't have to pretend,' Harry said. 'I was at the aura reading even if I hadn't heard the story before that.'

'And?' Dean said, his voice betraying his protectiveness for his brother.

'And nothing,' Harry said with a small shake of the head. 'I'm not one to judge in this sort of situation. Believe me that would make me a hypocrite.' Dean was about to question the wizard - because a statement like that caused his eyebrows to meet his hairline - but Sam came out of the bathroom, fully dressed and blush under control. He got a beer for himself and sat down on the nearest bed since there were only two chairs.

'So, you find anything?' Sam asked and Dean realised the two had to have been awake at the same time. For some reason that made him uncomfortable.

'Enough to put my curiosity to rest,' Harry replied. 'Our historian found an interesting book back when he was writing the history of the town. It was in the private library of one of the first wealthy settlers. It contains a reference to Shikk in an arab fairy-tale, just as a wish-fulfilling creature. His notes get increasingly specific after that. He became fascinated with the tale and the creature. No doubt it was a little more exciting history than the local mill. From his notes I'm guessing he wanted to write a book about it.'

'And he got a little too eager,' Sam surmised. Harry nodded. He hadn't found much more than that, but at least it explained why the demon had chosen this particular place. From Dean's experience he knew demons seemed to prefer small towns. The places were easier to play with.

'Thanks again,' Sam said to Harry. 'For saving me.'

'Don't mention it.'

'How did you find us anyway?' Dean asked.

'I had done enough scans on Sam at Grimmauld Place to use a point me spell. It works as a sort of compass,' Harry explained, a little apologetically. 'I know you didn't want any help from me, but I know you need it.' Dean was about to retort out of instinct when Sam cut in.

'Is the Ministry after us?'

'Without a doubt they've already sent out Aurors. Not officially, but they're in the country already.'

'Look, you saved our asses and we're grateful,' Dean said. 'But I don't think this is gonna work out long term.' Harry rolled his eyes at the slight sarcasm. His earnestness was actually wearing Dean's defensives down, though he wouldn't admit that, ever.

'There's a war coming,' Harry said, eyes wide and pleading. 'It's bigger than your apocalypse, it's bigger than our civil war, it's bigger than any war the muggles can dream up. It's all three powers, no agreement between them, and everyone in chaos. There's not a clear command structure in any camp, and everyone wants the biggest piece of the pie. For some reason you two play a role in all this, and after all the shite I've been through, I'm making my own bets, on humanity.'

Silence met this little speech and Dean couldn't help but be a little impressed with it.

'You really think we can stop it?' Sam asked with a good dose of skepticism.

'I don't know,' Harry sighed. 'I've been in some pretty hopeless situations before, and somehow, I've always come through.' Dean could certainly relate to that.

'What do you want to do?' he asked.

'Protection spells, mostly,' Harry explained. 'On your car, on anywhere you call home. Strengthening spells on your weapons, anti-tracking spells. I want to stock up on potions; healing, blood-replenishing, restorative, purifying, the works.' Dean blinked at the list of things the wizard could do for them. It all sounded pretty useful, actually. Though he wasn't about to gulp down a tail of newt anytime soon.

'How can we trust you?' Dean couldn't help but ask.

'If I wanted to turn you in, I could have popped you back to the Ministry the moment I found you,' Harry pointed out. Dean tried to ignore the shudder that went through him at the thought of the power these wizards seemed to have. He still didn't think people should have that sort of power. He had to concede, however, that if one of these powerful folks was helping them against all the others, they needed to take that chance.

'Okay,' he said. Harry smiled in relief.


	5. Allegiances

Chapter 5.

'Just be careful, all right?' Dean groused for perhaps the tenth time in as many minutes. He did not like the Merlin-wannabe waving that stick around his baby. He gritted his teeth when Harry performed a particularly ostentatious wave, muttering some more of that latin Dean could never quite seem to catch. He glanced over at Sam to see if his brainy brother had caught any of it, but Sam was leaning up against a tree, a small smirk on his face.

Harry stood back and looked at the Impala.

'It's the best I can do,' he said, hands on his hips. Dean came up to him and followed his gaze, scrutinising every inch of his baby. She didn't look any different.

'What'd you do to her?'

'Just protection spells against tracking, curses and such. No anti-muggle charms of course, or else you might forget where you parked,' Harry snickered. Dean suspected the last part was suppose to be a joke, but he did not find it funny.

'And this will stop your bad guys from finding us?' he asked dubiously. Harry sighed.

'Well, it'll make things harder for them. They won't be putting any spells on it without us knowing, and there's enough protection from curses to withstand quite a few.'

'Goodie,' Dean grumbled. He didn't like the thought of a bunch of invisible stuff on his baby.

'I'll do your weapons next. I've brought some potions to dip them in so they cut through a few protection spells and can't be used against you, that sort of thing.'

'Just as long as this stuff doesn't effect anything else we might need to dip our weapons in,' Dean pointed out. Harry nodded.

'Don't worry, I'll make sure they can still absorb goat blood or whatever else you hunters love to use.' Dean turned his head and gave Harry a look. The man stared right back, daring Dean to call him out.

'Just leave the demon knife alone, just in case,' Dean told him, silently letting Harry's comment go, thereby forming a sort of odd truce. They both thought each other weird, and that somehow made things a little better.

'Yeah, probably a good idea,' Harry agreed, surprising Dean. 'You never know with that kind of magic and ours. That's why you never quite know how they'll react to our spells.'

'Huh,' was Dean's only comment to that.

'Is there anywhere else you call home?' Harry asked. Sam pushed away from the tree and made his way over to them. They were off the side of the road in a little clearing. The sun shone down on the Impala, making it shine and blind you occasionally as you walked around it.

'Bobby's,' Sam said, coming to stand beside the other two. Harry looked from one to the other.

'Well, then,' he said, 'let's go.'

Dean gave the Impala one last check before he got in the driver's seat. He did a double take when Harry got in next to him. He glanced over his shoulder to see Sam getting in the back. Sam blinked at him innocently. 

'He called shotgun,' Sam said stupidly. Dean narrowed his eyes. Harry was smiling at him. He started the car and ignored them both, but couldn't help thinking that it this whole thing could be sourced back to Sam's innate ability to become friends with _all_ kinds of people.

XXX

Sam leaned forwards through the space between the front seats to turn off the radio. Dean had it set to an awful station just to annoy them, Sam knew, so he took the opportunity for a break while Dean filled up with gas and took a leak. He heard Harry's almost inaudible sound of relief and smiled.

'Not your kind of music?' Sam asked. They had had a pretty decent conversation before Dean had woken up that morning, and Harry seemed like a very good kind of guy - at least, that's what Sam's instincts told him. Something about the kindness in Harry's eyes, and also, the way he had spoken so passionately for Sam during the scary trial.

'I don't really have any kind of music,' Harry mused.

'Do wizards have music?' Sam asked, very curious about Harry's world despite his rather terrifying introduction to it.

'Oh yes,' Harry said. 'We have classical and "modern" for the kids. Rock bands with names like The Gargling Gouls.' They shared a chuckle over a few odd names. 'I've never listened to much of it, though. I never seem to find the time.'

'Not much driving around in your world,' Sam observed.

'No, everything's quicker,' Harry said quietly. 'Things can happen with just a wave of a wand. Yet, nothing ever seems to change.'

'Even after a war?' Sam asked.

'Especially after a war,' Harry said, bitterness making him sound so much older. 'People want normality again, and retribution.'

'Did you...' Sam paused, uncertain of how to phrase his question. He wanted to ask how Harry had fought, how long, why, and if he had felt as lost as Sam felt when he was in the thick of things. Did wizards fight like they did? Did they become machines of instinct and reflexes? But surely, casting a spell was more difficult, more cerebral, than pulling a trigger or stabbing someone? Before he could decide on a question, the door opened and Dean got back in.

It didn't look like the stop had improved his mood, but he had seemed marginally better than yesterday. Then he turned the radio back on and cranked up the volume, causing Sam and Harry to exchange a secret look of exasperation and amusement.

Human relations, feelings, and humour seemed perfectly translatable between them, no magic needed.

XXX

'You brought company,' Bobby commented from his front porch as the three of them got out of the Impala.

'Yeah,' Dean said as he mounted the stairs. 'Harry Potter.'

'The wizard?'

'He's helping,' was Dean's only comment before he disappeared inside, presumably to get a beer now he was done driving for the day. Sam and Harry approached together, conscious of Bobby's scrutiny.

'Bobby,' Sam greeted. 'This is Harry. Harry, Bobby,' he gestured between them as they reached level with the old hunter. Harry held out his hand. Bobby looked him up and down without even bothering to hide his eyeing.

'Pleasure to meet you,' Harry said, 'Sam's told me a little about you.' Bobby eyed the hand too, waiting till the last possible moment - just this side of awkward - before taking Harry's hand and shaking it hard.

'Thanks for helping Sam out,' he said. Harry nodded and they went inside. The wizard immediately started looking around, reaching out with his hands occasionally to feel things, walls, bookshelves, old artifacts. Bobby watched him with hard eyes, Sam with curiosity. Dean came back from the kitchen, beer in hand, took one look at Harry and asked:

'What are you doing?'

'Just getting a feel for the place,' Harry said. 'There's magic here.'

'Well, we have done a fair few rituals,' Bobby explained.

'No,' Harry said, shaking his head as his hand came to rest on a book in the shelf. He pulled it out and opened it to a random page. 'My kind of magic. It's here, just barely.'

'What's the difference?' Bobby asked. Harry glanced up through his fringe, but returned to the book almost immediately. He started turning pages as he spoke.

'It's more a matter of different types of energy, if that's what you can call magic from a scientific point of view. Demons and angels are like negative and positive to each other. The rituals you perform, most of the books and artifacts here, the psychics you meet who can talk to the dead, some of the creatures - though not all - that hunters deal with, all come from their kind of power.' Harry walked over to the overflowing table and put the book down on top of a pile, opened at around the middle. Bobby and Sam came closer to have a look, though Sam didn't recognise the volume.

'And yours?' Bobby asked. He knew the book, a rather obscure Latin tome about witch burnings. Harry only seemed curious, though, not offended, so he figured that wasn't the reason that book had been chosen.

'A different kind of energy, but with many of the same principles,' Harry continued. 'Occasionally even compatible, but mostly at odds with each other.'

'Hell, Heaven and Earth,' Sam said. Harry glanced up.

'Exactly,' he said, 'we're the odd one in the middle, forever torn between the other two who want this plain for their own.'

'So all you're doing is protecting the earth, is that it?' Bobby asked with a fair dose of skepticism.

'I wish,' Harry said wistfully, closing the book with a sigh. He picked up an odd object at random and looked at it for a moment before discarding it as well. 'Wizards are human, just like you, and we all have different goals. Mine is to try to find some way to peace- or more likely a stalemate.'

'Mutually assured destruction?' Sam tried.

'Something like that,' Harry said. He walked over to the fireplace and gazed into the cold ashes. 'This needs to be protected. They could try to hook you up to the Floo network, though that would be a violation of the treaty. I doubt that's going to stop them now.'

'I have no idea what that means,' Bobby said decisively, 'but if it stops a dude with a pointy hat coming down my chimney, I'm all for it.' Dean made a grunting sound and they all looked at him.

'You got any food?' Dean asked Bobby. 'I'm starving.' Bobby rolled his eyes, but went into the kitchen to find something. Dean followed him.

'You mind filling in the blanks while I cook something up?'

'You aren't gonna believe the crazy thing we just ganked,' Dean told him and proceeded to fill Bobby in on the events with the Nasnas, Harry's appearance and rescue, Sam's immunity, and their acceptance of Harry's help. By the end they were on their second beers and a stew of some kind was on the stove. Bobby shook his head. They sat across from each other at the kitchen table.

'This Harry seems like he's on our side, but are you sure it's wise to just let him lose with his wand waving?'

'Like I said,' Dean pointed out, 'he could have taken us back to Merry Old England a hundred times over by now. He saved us at the trial, and from the Nasnas. He may not want exactly what we want, but he does want those other crazies off our backs, so for now I'm thinking we're better off with a few wand waves.' Bobby nodded his agreement, taking a pensive swig of his beer.

'And Sam?' he asked after a pause. Dean took a pause himself, drinking quietly, neither of them admitting they were both listening for sound of the other pair. They heard soft conversation, but couldn't discern any meaning.

'He seems to like the guy,' Dean said.

'He was immune?'

'Just like the Croatoan virus,' Dean nodded. 'Nothing new.'

'I've been thinking,' Bobby said, 'about Sam's return from hell.' Dean gave him a long look and Bobby put up his hand to make the man hear him out. 'We know Lucifer didn't escape,' Bobby placated. 'Castiel said they'd feel it, but...'

'But?' Dean prompted.

'Who let him out?' Dean had heard this question a hundred times, and had asked it himself a few hundred more, but by the way Bobby was glancing at the door, Dean figured he had a new theory.

'I don't know.'

'What if Lucifer did?' Dean blinked at the suggestion, before it really sank in. Bobby looked very reluctant, like he was forcing every word out. 'What if he can't get out himself, but can - I don't know - push someone else out. The cage was made for him, no one else.'

'What makes you think that?' Dean asked.

'Just something you said about the trial,' Bobby said, trying to dismiss it, but at Dean look he sighed and continued. 'That there were scars on his aura. The wizards thought it was a sigh of Lucifer.'

'Yeah, and that smart chick said they were just scars, remember? Because of Yellow Eyes and all the crap he's been through.' "And all the blood he drank" was left unsaid.

'I know that, but... what if it's more?' Bobby asked in a near whisper. 'What if the wizards are half right?' They both glanced at the door of the kitchen at the same time, but neither of them heard any difference in the conversation in the library. They turned back to each other. 'What if it's like a piece of Lucifer? He pushed Sam out, so Sam can pull him out after, or be ready when he does get out.'

'Jesus, Bobby,' Dean said, putting a hand to his face. 'Where the hell did you get this stuff?' Bobby looked distinctly uncomfortable and shifted in his seat, something Bobby Singer did not do often. Alerts went off in Dean's mind instantly. 'Bobby?'

'Look, it's probably crap anyway. It's just a theory. I just thought you should know. Don't tell Sam.'

'Bobby,' Dean warned.

'Crowley mentioned it.' That stopped Dean cold.

'What?'

'Crowley,' Bobby repeated, his lips curling as if the name left a foul taste in his mouth. 'I called him about my soul. You might remember the deal I made?' Dean tried not to look too guilty for almost forgetting that. Bobby saw right through him, but didn't comment. 'He knows about wizards, by the way.'

'When was this?'

'A few days ago. I tried to get him to talk about my soul, but the fucker ignored me in favour of going off on a freaking monologue about how annoying wizards are and how they're going to fuck it all up. He knew you two had gone to England, and about the treaty. He wanted to know everything that had happened to you.'

'You didn't tell him anything, did you?' Dean asked, alarmed.

'I'm not an idjit,' Bobby groused, but he sighed and gave a sort of half nod, half shrug. 'I did try to barter, but the information wasn't worth my soul, apparently.'

'Sorry.' Bobby waved that away.

'He said the wizards were going to ignore the treaty, which pissed him off for some reason.'

'So, how did Sam come up?' Dean asked, wondering why Crowley was so worried about a two thousand year old treaty. The demons had been the ones to break it in the first place, right? The politics of the supernatural world were seriously complicated.

'He told me he was king of hell now,' Bobby explained. 'Boasted about it, more like. I asked if he wasn't trying to get Lucifer out of hell - I was trying to get information.' Dean nodded at this, he would probably have done the same. 'Crowley reminded me of what a bad idea that was and I asked if Lucifer wasn't out already, considering Sam.'

'And he told you his theory?'

'Sort of,' Bobby said. 'I think he said it just to mess with me. He wants us to doubt Sam.'

'That's more his M.O.,' Dean commented.

'Yeah,' Bobby nodded. 'I dismissed it at first, but then I got to thinking about that aura stuff. Crowley wouldn't know about that... but if he really believed it, he would have tried to get rid of Sam, right?' Dean thought for a moment, then a creeping, nauseous thought entered his mind.

'Not if he thought Sam would go to heaven this time,' he reluctantly pointed out. 'Half the angels up there still want the Apocalypse up and running again. Kill Sam and you hand deliver Lucifer's vessel to them, to be revived whenever they're ready.'

They both fell silent as their thoughts stewed.

'We're gonna get your soul back, Bobby,' Dean said eventually. The old hunter just nodded.

Back in the library Harry was putting the finishing touches on the fireplace and windows.

'I want to walk around the perimeter. Do you have a circle of iron around this place?'

'Uh, no,' Sam admitted. 'Bobby made a panic room in the basement, but other than that I don't think he even salts the windows regularly unless we know something's coming.' Harry gave him a look with raised eyebrows.

'Why on earth not?'

'Well... we have a tendency to summon things here, including demons,' Sam shrugged. 'If we had a permanent iron ring around the place it would make things difficult.'

'Right,' Harry sounded dubious. 'Well, at least there's nothing to interfere with my spells.'

'You really think they could find us here?'

'With the way the Ministry is these days, I wouldn't underestimate them,' Harry said, drawing back the curtains and gazing out into the yard. 'Then again, they could get lost in their own bureaucracy as they so often do...' Suddenly, Harry straightened, stiff as a board, and his right hand twitched in a way that reminded Sam of an old gunslinger movie.

In a flash of light Castiel appeared. Harry drew his wand, but kept it at his side. Castiel gazed at him with what amounted to open hostility from the normally stoic angel.

'Potter,' he said.

'You can call me Harry, if you like,' Harry said with false sincerity, voice laced with suspicion. 'Castiel, wasn't it?' Dean and Bobby came through from the kitchen, took one look at the almost-standoff and exchanged a glance.

'Hey, Cas,' Dean said, trying to gain the angel's attention. 'Did you beam in just to say hello?' Slowly, Castiel turned his head towards Dean, though it was clear he was keeping most of his senses on the wizard.

'Why is the wizard here?' he asked.

'He's here to help, Cas,' Dean explained, just a hint of a warning in his voice. 'He helped us at the trial, remember? He thinks their Ministry will try to find us so he's putting on some protection stuff around the place.'

'Their magic is blasphemy,' Castiel said. He gave a slight shudder. 'It's all over the place already. It stinks.' All three hunter's raised the eyebrows at the vehement objections of the angel. Sam looked at Harry to see if he was offended, but he appeared only slightly impatient.

'He saved us from a demon,' Sam supplied. 'A Nasnas.' Castiel seemed to know the name, but didn't comment. Instead, he merely stared at Harry for a long moment. The wizard stared right back, his knuckles white around his wand. Eventually, Castiel turned away from Harry without a word, looking to Dean once more.

'This is your choice?' he asked.

'Jesus, Cas,' Dean sighed. He half shrugged. 'Yeah, the way I see it we need all the help we can get unless we want to be right smack in the middle of a three front war.' Castiel nodded minutely at this, contemplative.

'He will have to leave while I speak to you.' All the hunters exchanged glances.

'I have to walk the perimeter anyway,' Harry told them and walked out, casting a quick glance at Sam, who gave him a apologetic look.

'All right, Cas,' Dean said. 'What's up?'

XXX

Outside Harry walked to the far end of the yard, finding a small trail that led out into the forest and made a nice path down to a small creek. From there he cut through the forest until he saw the back of the house, before turning again and moving in a wide circle round till he hit the road going into the yard.

All the while he considered his options, his decisions so far, and the curious creature that was Castiel, the angel. He seemed to care for the Winchesters. He had brought them all the way to England to get the wizards off their backs and the non-involvement treaty back in place. But the treaty was flawed, and Harry was technically against it on principle. The only use it could have had was to prevent a war, but since it wasn't going to do that, you might as well throw it out the window.

These were thoughts he couldn't get rid of; they turned around and around in his mind. He didn't like the thought of himself being prejudice, but he couldn't help being suspicious of angels. The very name they called themselves filled Harry with doubt. If God did exist, and permitted them as wizards and witches to exist, why had he directed the angels' wrath on them?

He made a smaller circle around the house and grounds, deciding on where to cast his detection spells and protection charms.

He gave a thought to how far the Ministry's agents had gotten. Had they even left England? Where they off the record or had the Ministry just decided to ignore the treaty they so wanted back in place?

XXX

'Mr. Malfoy, come in, come in,' the Minister of Magic was gracious as ever as he gestured the tall wizard into his home office and down into a comfortable chair in front of his desk. Lucius Malfoy sat down in it as if it offended his clothes to touch the fabric of the chair, but he also appeared to conceal it out of politeness, which the Minister appreciated.

'Minister, to what do I owe this sudden invitation?'

'First, would you like some tea?'

'No, thank you.' The Minister seemed flustered at Malfoy's refusal, giving him nothing to busy himself with as he thought of what to say. The office was in his town house in London. He had taken a residence in a muggle area to show off his modernity.

'With your tireless work helping to rebuild our society,' the Minister began, 'and your reputation for discretion, I felt you were the man to speak to on this matter.'

'And what matter would that be?' Malfoy asked, crossing a leg over the other. Despite the large mahogany desk that stood between them, the Minister felt it did little to intimidate his guest according to its usual purpose. Malfoy had not once directed his gaze above the Minister to the massive portrait of his ancestor, a most formidable figure who habitually wore a stern and condescending expression perfect to put business men ill at ease.

'I assume you've heard of the incident with Harry Potter?'

'Yes, unfortunately,' Malfoy said with a long suffering sigh. 'Such a shame for a young man to be so misled. I sympathise entirely of course.'

'You- you do?' the Minister asked.

'Of course. I myself was once misled by a demonic presence, you remember. I have since tried to do everything I can to correct my mistakes. I fear, however, young Mr. Potter is too far gone.'

'Gone?' The Minister appeared both perplexed and enraptured by Malfoy's tale.

'He has gone from vanquishing demons to working with them,' Malfoy explained. 'I do not think you can fall much lower. Though we must remember, the demonic presence within Potter is a likely influence.' The Minister rubbed his sweaty hands together under the desk, then noticed how sweaty they were and rubbed them on his expensive dark blue robe. He resisted the urge to grab something on the desk to fiddle with. Speaking about demonic things always made him queasy.

'He did vanquish the demonic presence, though, didn't he? Voldemort is truly gone this time, and with him any influence he might have on our world. You don't believe Mr. Potter still retains some demonic presence, do you?'

'No, of course not,' Malfoy reassured him, then seemed to hesitate. 'I do not believe Voldemort can return through Mr. Potter as he did last time, but with such formative years spent with a demonic presence inside him, surely we cannot discount the possibility that some... essence remains to influence the young man's rash decisions.' The Minister nodded eagerly at this - it explained a lot in a rather elegant way. He knew he had chosen the right man for the job. Previously he had been skeptical of the Malfoy patriarch. How had a man who had been brought so low by the war, risen so quickly? He had not only regained his fortune over night, but a vast amount of influence within the Ministry as well.

'When you put it like that, it may account for Mr. Potter's sudden escape with the muggles into No Man's Land.'

'Indeed,' Malfoy agreed. 'Such a pity.' The two men shared a silent moment of feigned grief for the loss of their society's former hero. 'Was there some particular task you wished me to take care of?'

'Ah, yes, yes,' the Minister pretended to shuffle a few laid out rolls of parchment, rolling a few away and putting another in a desk drawer while pulling out another. In the end he put both arms on his desk, placing the tips of his fingers together to form a triangle with his body, and gazed at the relaxed Malfoy with a serious expression. 'I am afraid the Ministry is rather powerless in this sort of situation.'

'And what sort of situation would that be?' asked Malfoy. 'Please, speak plainly to me. We are alone.'

'Quite... quite,' the Minister nodded several times. 'We must retrieve Sam Winchester. He is the key to the Non-Veela entity's return. A force more powerful than Voldemort-'

'Voldemort's superior in every sense, I believe,' Malfoy supplied. The Minister swallowed.

'Quite, and this muggle is running around free as a bird, and now with Harry Potter at his side!'

'They fit rather nicely together,' Malfoy mused, 'as if they were made for each other. Both young men with demonic presences since birth, and both conduits for the demons into our world. Well, one used conduit, the other still potential.'

'Yes,' the Minister swallowed again. 'Our world is under a serious threat. Voldemort has already broken the treaty. I consider it null and void at present, and No Man's Land is open territory, but you know politicians. They bicker and nothing gets done.'

'So, you want me to...?' Malfoy asked.

'I want you... to go into No Man's Land and retrieve Sam Winchester. You are a formidable wizard, with experience with demons and muggle handling. If you were to use your own assets in this-'

'You want me to use all my power and resources to find your missing prisoner, without Ministry sanction?'

'In a word, yes.' the Minister felt more confident now that it was all out in the open. Malfoy fell into a contemplative silence, and the Minister waited impatiently. 'I would be eternally grateful,' he added.

'How grateful?'

'We could remold the wizarding world,' the Minister sat forward in his chair. 'With this threat under control and the non-veelas fighting among themselves on their plain, we can resign the treaty and finally rebuild. Our society needs stability, the type that comes from old families, like ours, but it needs change too.'

'Indeed... I will put all my attention on finding Sam Winchester. I can not, however, guarantee that I can bring Mr. Potter back. Considering his power and current mental condition, his actions could prove unpredictable.' The Minister nodded solemnly.

'I understand completely. It cannot be helped.'

'Good. I will put together a small team, all of which will have the utmost discretion.' The two men rose simultaneously and shook hands. Malfoy left immediately through the Floo. It wouldn't do to be seen leaving through the front.

Once he was back in the welcome hall of Malfoy Manor he sighed heavily, took off his coat, threw it to an elf, and headed for the basements. His mind raced. He hurried down the stairs, the torches lighting by magic. His feet took him automatically to the cleaned-up dungeon at the far end of the long corridor. He didn't bother knocking.

Draco was, predictably, bent over a large cauldron, gazing into its depths as if it held the secrets of the universe. If not for the delicate features and blond hair, Lucius could have sworn Draco was Snape's son. After the war, Draco had shut himself away down here. It was pathetic, unacceptable behaviour for a Malfoy, but Lucius could not lure his son outside. He supposed it was what happened to the young people when they were disillusioned. He had been disillusioned so many times himself he couldn't remember the first time.

All Draco needed was the right incentive, the right amount of force, and the Malfoy heir would take his rightful place in society.

Lucius approached slowly, allowing Draco to notice his presence without being startled.

'Draco, please put your toys away for a moment, I must speak with you,' he said softly. Draco continued to stir, the pea-green sludge slowly turning darker. It smelled rancid.

'What is it?' Draco spoke, but didn't otherwise change his position.

'Tell me,' Lucius asked, 'do you read the papers, or have you become a full-time hermit?'

'I read,' Draco replied.

'Then you've heard about the incident with Potter?'

'Yes, he's gone over to the dark side.' The corner of Draco's mouth turned ever-so-slightly upwards in a half smile. Lucius decided to ignore the comment.

'I have been tasked by the Minister himself to capture the muggle. Potter we may discount as collateral damage. I intend to insure he won't be coming back.' Finally, Draco looked up, his hand stilling. He gazed at his father with a blank expression.

'Well, I hope you enjoy the colonies,' he said eventually.

'I want you to come with me,' Lucius explained patiently. Draco blinked.

'Why?'

'Because you are an excellent wizard, whether you believe it or not,' Lucius was not often in the business of doling out praise, but he recognised when there was a need for it. 'And I think you need it to see Harry Potter's fall.' Draco seemed to consider it for a moment, before turning back to his potion.

'A proper father/son bonding trip it is then.'

'Draco, you are an adult now,' Lucius told him sternly. 'You will always be my son, but I expect to be able to treat you like a real wizard. Can you behave as one?' Draco didn't say anything for a long while.

'I need to finish this,' he said. Lucius sighed.

'We leave in the morning. I expect you to be ready.' He left quickly, not catching Draco's muttered response. He had other people to contact.


	6. A Hell of a Problem

_Flashback_

'Time to give up, Harry,' Voldemort said, like a mother telling her child to go to bed.

Hogwarts, once proud and well-kept despite its thousand years, was now missing whole floors. Rubble was everywhere, as were the bodies of the fallen. The Great Hall, once a place of cherished memories, was now a morgue.

Harry felt the gazes of his peers and teachers, and the Death Eaters too. He didn't glance at them, however. His focus was all for the demon standing across from him.

'Not bloody likely,' Harry growled. 'Just tell me one thing, _demon_ ,' he spat. 'Is Tom still inside you? Has he been watching all the horrors you've committed all this time?' Voldemort's eyes widened, but Harry realised he was just raising his nonexistent eyebrows in mild curiosity. Murmurings rose from the crowd.

'Oh, Harry,' Voldemort mocked. 'I know you've been doing your research, but your own stupidity is keeping you from putting things together. You know how Tom Riddle died.'

'But-' Harry's mind spun back to the night in Godric's Hollow. Tom Riddle had died that night, and Voldemort had been reduced to a wandering shadow. 'Whose body are you possess-' But Harry knew, he had always known. Voldemort's smile was wide and satisfied.

'That's right, Harry,' he said, spreading his arms wide. 'It's all thanks to _you_ , and a bit of Tom Riddle's father and Wormtail too of course. Don't you see? Immortality is not my greatest accomplishment. This body is!'

Harry felt sick to his stomach watching the glee in Voldemort's face as he boasted of his triumph.

'I have existed for far longer than any of you pathetic wizards. I am older than your Merlin. But here I walk, with my own flesh, all thanks to you. And it is immortal.'

'That's where you're wrong,' Harry cut off the mad monologue. 'Your body is not immortal, any more than you are. Your horcruxes are all gone! All seven.' At the mention of the number, Voldemort's face contorted in rage.

'No!' he denied.

'Yes,' Harry said. 'And when I kill you, you don't even get to go to hell!'

'It matters not!' Voldemort's voice boomed. 'I am still the master of the Elder Wand! All will bow before me and the rightful Lord of this earth will reign!'

'Wrong again,' Harry muttered, just as Voldemort raised his wand.

_'Avada Kedavra!'_

_'Expelliamus!'_

But Harry was wrong. Voldemort didn't die, not really. His body was destroyed, but the last remnants of his demon spirit went to hell, where it joined with the other parts that had been exorcised, not destroyed. Not even Dumbledore had realised they had been working under the false assumption that Voldemort had split a human soul. His demonic spirit had survived yet again.

Harry was convinced a part of Voldemort still remained on earth, in him, for in his nightmares he heard the demon's laughter...

'Harry, wake up!' The young man sat bolt upright on the threadbare couch. Sam had a hold on his shoulder. Once reality was back, Harry cursed and wiped at his sweaty forehead. 'You okay?' Sam asked, reluctant to let go of Harry's shoulder.

'Yeah, I'm fine. I'm sorry,' Harry muttered, grabbing his glassed and putting them off. He pushed away the thin blanket and rose. He had slept in his clothes, and cleaning spells were just making them itchy by this point. Sam rose with him.

'Sorry?' Sam asked.

'I usually put up silencing charms,' Harry explained as he headed for the nearest sink, in the kitchen, and splashed some water on his face.

'You have nightmares often?' Sam surmised more than questioned. Harry sighed and turned around, leaning against the kitchen counter.

'Did I wake you?' he asked.

'I was already up,' Sam said. 'I had a bad dream too...' There was a moment of awkward silence as neither man wanted to talk about it. 'Listen,' Sam shuffled a bit, 'Castiel told us some stuff you should probably be aware of.' Harry gave him a skeptical look.

'Does Castiel agree with that?'

'No,' Sam admitted, 'but if we're heading out to hunt we should all be on the same page. You are coming with us, right?'

'You really want me to?' Harry asked. Sam gave a half shrug, almost shy.

'Well yeah. With your powers we'd be stupid not to ask you. Besides, aren't you technically on the run as well? Didn't you help us criminals escape? In America criminals stick together.' Harry returned Sam's smile briefly.

'I don't have anywhere else to go,' he observed. He snorted softly suddenly. 'Youngest hero of the wizarding world, and youngest traitor too probably. But I've been painted as worse over the years.'

'I remember they said you had political weight,' Sam recalled. 'What exactly did you do?'

'A long story, for another time.' Harry could see Sam wanted to push the question. He sighed. 'I exorcised the demon, that's it. They put me on a pedestal just so they could watch me fall.' Sam had a look that said he knew Harry wasn't telling the whole story, but was willing to let it slide since Harry probably looked like shit warmed over. 'So, what was it Castiel told you?'

'Oh,' Sam blinked away whatever he had been thinking. 'Castiel warned us that a few Angelic nukes were on the loose.'

'I assume you don't mean actual nuclear weapons?'

'Eh, no, I mean Angelic artifacts, powerful artifacts that they're all clamoring to use in their civil war. Castiel wants us to keep an eye out for them.'

'Great, I love looking for magical artefacts,' Harry muttered.

'We have a new case lined up,' Sam explained, 'but we want to take care of a... situation with Bobby and a demon named Crowley.'

'What sort of situation?' Harry was immediately more alert. Sam, slightly reluctant, explained the basics of the situation and how Bobby came to make the deal. Harry looked grim by the end.

'We'll get his soul back,' he said curtly. 'I'm gonna get a few winks before sunrise.' He left the kitchen, leaving Sam looking after him with a concerned and confused expression.

XXX

'I'm surprised you agreed to come,' Lucius commented as they stood in the welcoming hall of Malfoy Manor.

'I don't see why,' Mr. Poole answered, his nostrils flaring slightly, a tell that was grotesque to Lucius in its obviousness. 'Mr. Potter impugned my expertise, and I want this Winchester where he belongs more than anyone. I saw the evidence of the non-veela's presence up close, not to mention all those demonic scars. Why, I've never seen an aura so damaged!'

'Still,' Lucius commented lightly, 'it may be dangerous.'

'Whatever you may have heard,' Mr. Poole told him, 'I was not hiding during the war. My research led me far afield. It consumed me. I was barely aware there was any sort of disagreement back home.' Lucius grimaced at the choice of wording to describe a war. He had been reluctant to ask Mr. Poole. The wizard did not seem to be a strong man.

'Well, I'm sure your expertise will be invaluable.'

'Oh, I'll find them, have no doubt,' Mr. Poole assured him haughtily 'I am an expert in all kinds of tracking, scanning and detection spells. Any spell that extracts information, I have heard of. I am also well verse in Legilimens, an art that requires enormous strength of the mind.'

'Yes, I'm sure...' Lucius murmured. He hoped Mr. Poole's expertise would lead them to the prisoner quickly, lest Lucius have to suffer the man's presence too long. His crooked nose did nothing for his face the way Snape's sometimes did in certain lights. It was quite clearly broken, and the huge nostrils made it seem too short for his face. His perpetually greenish skin made you expect he smelled of something rotten. He wore the same tight robes he always preferred; ones that flared out slightly at the ankle and had no buttons, only two parallel stripes of black velvet running down in front on each side of where a row of buttons should have been. A puffy white collar was visible at his throat, with matching frills at the end of the long tight sleeves. He looked quite the last century compared to Lucius' own stylish robes of beige and greens, with both classic Celtic brocade and modern lines.

'Might I ask who else is coming with us?' Mr. Poole enquired politely.

'We are waiting for my son,' Lucius informed him. He looked up at the very large ornate clock that hung above the enormous Floo. It was well past the time he had told Draco to be present. They heard the approach of someone on the marble floor, thankfully, and both men turned to the sight of Draco entering.

Lucius frowned at the sight, and Mr. Poole gave a startled sort of half-gasp, half-snort.

'Good morning, father,' Draco said pleasantly. 'And Mr. Poole, wasn't it? You were at the memorial dinner here, were you not? A pleasure to see you again.' Draco held out his hand and Mr. Poole shook it very weakly.

'Draco, what are you wearing?' The young wizard turned to his father with an puzzled look, as if he did not understand the question.

'Why, muggle clothes of course,' he said. 'We are going into No Man's Land, and into muggle society. Most likely the best way to find them is to use both magical and non-magical means. I thought it prudent at least one of us could question potential information holders without prompting queer looks.'

Lucius wasn't quite sure if he should be angry or impressed. Draco was wearing what he knew to be jeans (Lucius had never understood why muggles enjoyed wearing such a coarse and unseemly fabric) and they were far too tight. He wore white shoes with rather thick white laces, with green stripes on the side presumably for show, though they made the strange shoes look even worse. Lucius would later learn they were called sneakers. On top Draco wore a dark red t-shirt with some sort of strange logo Lucius did not recognise - why would he? - and a jacket made of dark brown leather. At least that was a fabric Lucius recognised. He had to admit Draco looked quite good, but then again his son would look good in anything. His hair was different as well. It was much shorter and untamed, falling unevenly into Draco's eyes.

'How on earth do you know how muggles in No Man's Land dress?' Mr. Poole asked.

'I did my research,' Draco said simply. 'Shall we be off?'

'Not without me,' a voice called imperiously. All three men were surprised to see Severus Snape enter. Lucius had asked the man at once of course, but Snape was all about keeping on the right side of the law after his narrow escape from Azkaban. Lucius would have killed the man on principle once, before he realised Snape had betrayed a demon - though he had never actually confirmed if Snape had known at the time. These days their relationship was nonexistent at best and strained at worst. They had a silent non-involvement agreement of their own in public.

'Severus,' Draco said with such happy surprise Lucius bit his tongue to keep from berating him. 'You said you wouldn't come.'

'I told your father I wouldn't come,' Snape corrected as he strode into the room, his robes billowing. Lucius swore Severus had not changed clothes since the 1970s. 'He failed to mention he was bringing you along on this mission to hell.'

'We're hardly going to hell, Severus,' Lucius pointed out. 'No Man's Land is quite civilised these days, or so I hear.'

'I'll hold off judgement,' Severus said curtly. 'Shall we?' Without waiting for a reply, Severus strode past them towards the Floo. The other three followed. They would have to use the Floo network as far as possible and then Apparate via Greenland and Canada. With Lucius' connections and bribes, no one in Britain would be aware of their departure or destination.

XXX

'Can't we just burn them anyway?' Dean asked, staring down at the old pile of bones.

'A deal's a deal,' Sam reminded him.

'I'm with Dean on this one,' Harry commented, surprising the Winchesters. 'A demon's a demon,' he muttered.

'Step away, if you would,' came Crowley's Irish drawl. The three humans stepped aside as the demon walked passed them to the dug up remains. He started stuffing them into a bag. Harry watched with gritted teeth and clenched fists. He had promised he wouldn't hurt the demon, as Sam had insisted he might prove useful. Harry couldn't see the value. Crowley rose and faced them. He looked pointedly at Harry's wand, then did a full-body check.

'Harry Potter, isn't it?' he said. The wizard narrowed his eyes, about to ask how the demon knew that. 'We have a mutual acquaintance I believe, well, I say acquaintance. He's more of a pain in my arse at the moment.'

'You know Voldemort?' Harry asked, his whole body taunt with the desire to raise his wand and blast the demon. He could see Sam and Dean exchanging glances out of the corner of his eye and shuffling nervously. Crowley seemed entirely at ease, but Harry knew that was an act.

'Kind of hard to miss him down in hell,' Crowley complained. 'He thinks he's quite the character.'

'But you're king of hell, right?' Harry asked, almost mockingly.

'Yes, I am,' Crowley told him. Their stare was intense. Harry wasn't going to be the first to look away. 'Me and ol' Voldy don't get alone, I'm afraid, though I would love to ask him how he did it.'

'Oh?' Harry asked, as if they were discussing the weather. His wand hand was sweaty, but he kept the tight grip.

'Maybe you know?' Crowley asked. 'How he got into one of you? I don't like the guy, but that was brilliant, I gotta admit.' Crowley gave an impressed shake of the head and a sigh. 'Using your own magic against you. Had you all following him like rats to the Piper.'

'How's he doing now?' Harry asked, ignoring the insult.

'Not too good, I'm afraid, but that's expected after you cut your soul seven ways. Bit of a botched job of your part, though, wasn't it?'

'He's in hell, that's good enough for me,' Harry lied. Crowley finally broke the stare and looked off in the direction of the castle that lay not far from the graveyard.

'He'll get out eventually,' he said, actually looking a bit worried. 'And rumour has it he's desperate for approval from dear old daddy.'

'He wants to set Lucifer free?' The question came from Sam. Crowley glanced at him with a bored expression, but Harry could see the nervousness underneath. The demons were having a few internal conflicts of their own.

'If he's in hell, how is it you can call yourself king?' Harry asked with a raised eyebrow. Crowley gave him a look of contempt.

'Hells a big place, boy,' he said. 'Besides, I'm moving up in the world.' Before they could question him further he disappeared. Harry let out a deep breath and relaxed. He had a headache from restraining himself for so long.

'What did he mean by Voldemort cutting his soul seven ways?' Sam asked.

'Long story,' Harry muttered, 'come on, let's get back.' He held out his hands to both brothers and they took them reluctantly.

'God, I hate this kind of travel,' Dean groused.

'Hey, if not for Harry we would've had to fly all the way here,' Sam pointed out. 'Thanks to him we got Bobby's soul back in less than a day.'

'Point.'


	7. The Spear of Destiny

_Year Six: Hogwarts._

Draco stumbled through the endless hallways. They used to give him comfort. They were a sign that there was always something new to find around a corner, somewhere to hide, or escape. Now he knew there was no escape, and so the winding entrails of Hogwarts only led him on his merry way to death.

The death of his soul would come first, he was sure. He wasn't being melodramatic. He preferred thinking of it as Shakespearean – a muggle writer, true, but undeniably well suited for this tragedy. Draco wasn't a great villain, nor a hero of any sort, but he had a part to play and he would play it, if only so the story could be complete.

Professor Snape wanted to help him, which was futile, but gave him a sense of comfort, and of dread. He was comforted by the fact that his mentor cared about him, but dreaded what it meant: his failure was a foregone conclusion.

There was one thing that the world seemed to have forgotten about Draco Malfoy, however. He might be a spoiled, arrogant coward, but he wasn't stupid.

And if there was one thing Draco Malfoy knew about better than anyone it was Malfoy history. He had made it his priority during all his summer vacations to know every ancestor, every great deed or setback, and every source of power and wealth. Not even Lucius could recite so many branches of the family tree by heart, nor recall anecdotes from lives lived in centuries past. Draco could. He could tell them as if they were his own, though no one cared to listen.

Draco wished now that he had told them. Perhaps then he wouldn't feel so alone.

He had read stories of demons and angels, of secret meetings and whispered deals. These stories were only written down in the most cryptic of languages in the most well-guarded diaries of long-dead Malfoy patriarchs. Draco had found them all, read them, and most importantly, deciphered them. Times change, however, and the Malfoys of this century have forgotten they ever broke the non-involvement agreement. Most of them had barely heard of the agreement in the first place. Wizards always seemed to find history a boring subject. Draco knew that history held secrets to great power.

And it scared the life out of him.

He barely dared to entertain the thought in the deepest recesses of his subconscious. Sometimes, while working on the Cabinet his mind would wander over the stories, and the things he had witnessed that had first made him think of them. A voice inside his head would whisper a horrible lie. A lie that, if true, would mean more than just death.

"He is a demon."

The first time Draco found this thought within his mind, he did not sleep for two days. He must be vigilant, he thought, lest his mind do stupid things, like get him killed before his time.

To wizards, the threat of demons wasn't how much power they might have, or if a spell could hurt them. For a young wizard like Draco, who had been foolish enough to read about real demons, the fear that pervaded him was made of doubt.

What if they really could drag you to a place called Hell? Just like all those stupid muggles prayed about. What if they could enter your body, take your power, your magic, and then, after doing unspeakable things, drag you into the Pit? If they were monsters then they could be fought, but if there truly were beings of heaven and hell then they had to come from somewhere, by the muggle god's power. 

Which was why Draco held the belief deep in his gut that the death of his soul would be the preferable alternative than to allow it to be taken.

Silly stories, all of it, of course. Demons were just another type of magical creature, whose magic was a bit... off. This became Draco's prayer. 

Draco made it to the Room of Requirement and set to work for the Dark Lord. A great _wizard_ who deserved Draco's full and unflinching loyalty.

XXX

_Present Day, America:_

'Why did you come, Draco?' The young man shot a glance at his mentor. He got a glimpse of the harsh lines of Snape's face, the shadows moving in the flickering light of the fire. He refocused on the stars. It was the same sky as at home, but it felt alien for some reason. It seemed bigger. He looked over his shoulder at the fire, next to which Lucius and Mr. Poole had set up the tent, a spacious four bedroom one, fully stocked. The entrance appeared as no more than any average muggle tent.

'Father asked me to come,' he replied, gazing out over the endless mountains and plains far beyond, too dark to see, but Draco knew they were there.

'I thought you had outgrown your desire to please him,' Snape remarked evenly.

'He said I should see Harry Potter fall.' The mountains held many sounds, not least the running of a brook nearby. It was... pleasant.

'If your desire to see Potter fall is as great as your Father's, then I would of course urge you to stay,' Snape eventually replied.

'My own desires have nothing to do with it,' Draco told him calmly.

'Draco...' Snape was at a loss for words, which surprised Draco. Usually, the clever man could always find a way to say things in a way that kept their true meaning from prying ears. Perhaps he was getting old. Draco turned to him.

'I would like nothing better than to return to my lab and do my work,' Draco said, smiling slightly. 'But that is not to be. I am here because fate seems to insist on bringing me and Potter together.'

'Don't do anything foolish, Draco,' Snape hissed suddenly, causing the young man to raise his eyebrows in surprise.

'I like to think I have outgrown childhood pettiness, Professor,' Draco deflected. 'I am here to witness justice done, so our family can have peace.' Before Snape slipped up again, Draco returned quickly to the tent and found his room. He noted Mr. Poole was not in his bed, so his suspicions had been right. He worried over Professor Snape's sudden outburst all night. It wasn't like him. He knew what was being warned about, but he honestly didn't know what he would do. He was sure he would react, one way or another, but he honestly didn't know which way his body would lead him. For the first time in his life, Draco was going in without thinking.

It felt liberating.

XXX

Harry jogged up the porch steps. He really liked Bobby's house. It reminded him of the Burrow, only American. He wondered what had happened to Bobby's family. He was sure there had been one here, once. The yard was a maze of old cars. Harry wondered what Dean would say if he heard the story about the flying Ford Angela that they sent straight into a pissed-off tree.

He would probably ban Harry from ever touching his "baby" again. Harry grinned at the thought. He might enjoy messing with the Winchester a bit.

Inside, he found the three hunters around the kitchen table. Well, Dean and Sam were seated, while Bobby leaned against the counter with a mug of coffee in his hand. Harry still didn't like the taste of coffee. He knew he was going to miss tea and biscuits, maybe even Hagrid's rock cakes, by the end of his stay here.

'Something happen?' Harry asked as he took in the serious expressions.

'This is not for your ears.' Harry spun at the deep gravelly voice. He did not like the fact that he hadn't felt Castiel's presence, nor how he failed to contain his slight jump.

'He's coming with us,' Sam spoke up, voice firm. Castiel shot a sharp look at him.

'You can not trust him,' Castiel pointed out.

'There was a time when we didn't trust you either,' Sam countered.

'Look, we're all being careful,' Dean placated. The way he looked at Castiel made Harry think there was definitely a special relationship between them. 'We could use him.' The angel worked his jaw, and Harry thought he looked constipated. He tried not to snort in derision.

'I am on your side,' he pointed out, though he knew it was pointless to do so. Castiel turned his icy stare on him.

'You are on your own side,' the angel pronounced, 'and your very existence is blasphemy.'

'You know, I am bloody tired of hearing that stupid argument!' Harry burst out. 'If I'm so blasphemous, then God must have been a fairly big screw-up, considering he made everything on this earth, according to you.'

'You harnessed the power of the earth's magic for your own selfish gain,' Castiel argued, his voice low and controlled, but filled with burgeoning rage. 'God did not give you your powers.'

'You know nothing about the origins of our magic,' Harry shot back. He hadn't felt this angry in a while. It was invigorating, in a way, but also frustrating. He knew he should have outgrown his short temper.

'Guys, guys,' Dean interrupted before Castiel could retaliate. 'Let's just agree to disagree on this one.' To Castiel he said: 'He's coming with us.'

There was a long pause while Dean and Castiel held a silent staring contest. Harry wondered if a muggle could actually withstand the wrath of an angel, but Dean's face was the picture of calm as he met the constipated angel. Eventually, Castiel looked away.

'Very well.'

Dean nodded, with a mumbled 'good' that hinted he was a bit surprised. Sam gave a sigh of relief and sent a smile at Harry, who returned it briefly, a little annoyed his anger had no where to go.

'So... mind filling me in?' Harry asked, looking around the slightly tense kitchen.

'There's a heavenly nuke on the loose,' Dean told him. 'The spear of- what was it?'

'Longinus,' Sam replied. 'The Spear of Destiny.'

'Sounds important,' Harry said. He walked over to the kitchen table and sat down beside Sam, uncomfortable with standing. He kept an eye on Castiel across the room. Sam turned in his chair.

'It's from the Bible,' Sam explained. 'It's the spear that was used on Jesus on the cross.'

'I'm afraid it's been a while since I heard Bible stories,' Harry admitted.

'The story doesn't matter,' Dean cut in, 'just how to find it and stop anyone from using it.'

'So, how exactly did a bunch of angels manage to lose their spear?' Harry asked.

'It was not in heaven at the time it was stolen,' Castiel supplied, ignoring the insult to Harry chagrin. He needed to stop baiting the angel. 'It was at the Vatican.'

'Who stole it?'

'I have an idea, but have been unable to locate him,' Castiel admitted. 'I believe he has either sold it or given it away. It's signature has been spotted there,' Castiel nodded towards a newspaper Harry only now noticed was on the table. He picked it up and scanned the headlines.

_"Man Stabbed, Leaks Water."_

'Water?' Harry asked.

'In the Bible, when Jesus is stabbed, it says that both blood and water flowed out of him,' Sam explained.

'We must find the Spear,' Castiel urged. 'Whoever can gain access to its full power will be able to lead a powerful army to victory.'

'According to legends, Hitler spent half his life looking for it,' Sam pointed out.

'Good thing he didn't succeed,' Harry mumbled as he read through the article.

'You must go there and investigate,' Castiel said.

'We're on it,' Dean said. Castiel nodded before tilting his head as if he was listening.

'I would go with you, but there are many things that require my attention.' Although he seemed in a hurry to be off, he hesitated.

'We'll be fine, Cas,' Dean promised. There was a flutter of wings instead of the pop of Apparition, and the angel was gone.

'How far away is this?' Harry asked, gesturing to the newspaper.

'About two days drive, if we don't stop,' Dean supplied.

'We could get there this second if we Apparate,' Harry pointed out.

'No more creepy magical beaming,' Dean ordered, pointing a warning finger at Harry for emphasis. 'Besides, if you're taken out, then me and Sam are stuck without transportation.' Harry conceded the point with a nod. 'We're taking the Impala.'

'Might as well,' Harry shrugged, 'If we drive there's no magical signature to trace, which means more work for whoever is hunting us from the Ministry,' Harry said.

'Well, let's stock up and get you three on the road,' Bobby spoke up for the first time. They all rose and got out of the kitchen.

XXX

_Hogwarts, Year Six, Room of Requirement:_

Fate has a way of making trivial things turn into the most important, often without the protagonist knowing.

Draco had been working on the Cabinet for months. It was nearly Christmas, and he wasn't even close. His attention had been divided, however, between the Cabinet and his other... assignment. He knew he was on the verge of failing, and he also knew, deep down, that he wanted to.

It was during one of his "staring sessions" as he called it, when all he did was sit in front of the Cabinet and stare at it, hoping the world would slowly fade and he would be able to see the answer, when he suddenly got up an began to walk around.

The room was a maze of clutter, towers of stuff long forgotten. Draco found himself picking up random bits of debris and inventing stories for them – after checking them for curses of course. This nice music box, for example, had probably been hidden so the other students wouldn't find it and destroy it, having been driven mad by its annoying tune. He put the box down, perching it precariously on top of a chair, a stack of books, a small statue of a Goblin and an umbrella.

Out of the corner of his eye, something glinted at him. He turned and walked across the way to a large cabinet, not entirely dissimilar to the one he had just left. He used his wand to move a few objects out of the way until he could clearly see a beautiful tiara sitting on top of the cabinet.

'Accio tiara,' he called, voice filled with curiosity. The object zoomed down to him as swiftly as it was bidden, and Draco caught it. The moment it touched his skin, he was sure he got a sudden shock, but the feeling was so brief he dismissed it as the metal being cold.

Holding up the tiara to study it closer, he realized it held an inscription. "Wit beyond measure is man's greatest treasure." The words rang inside his head, as if calling up a memory. Why would someone put them on a tiara? It seemed such a...

'Ravenclaw,' Draco whispered in awe as he remembered the tales of Hogwarts he had read as a child, full of wonder. Those were the words of Ravenclaw, surely? This might very well be a priceless heirloom.

Or it might just be someone's old Halloween costume, Draco conceded. It did look authentic, however, and the gem certainly looked real. He was definitely going to look up everything on Ravenclaw and that quote.

Content at having found something to distract him properly, Draco left the Room of Hidden Things, and struck a course for the library, all the while being unaware of the darkness that lurked within the beautiful diadem.

XXX

_Present Day, America._

'You Americans are spoiled,' Harry proclaimed as the three of them got out of the Impala (Harry had learned not to simply refer to it as a car). Sam and Harry stayed outside while Dean walked across the parking lot to the reception of the local motel. Harry had stayed in much worse, so he wasn't complaining about the standard.

'How do you mean?' Sam asked, curious.

'You have way too much space,' Harry told him. 'It's endless.' In truth he was sick to death of driving. How did muggles handle it? Dean seemed at his happiest behind the wheel, and it completely baffled Harry.

Sam smiled at Harry's complaint.

'We like things big,' he said. Harry made a show of looking up at Sam from his small stature.

'Yes, I've noticed,' he quipped. Sam shook his head in a fond sort of way.

'Not my fault you're a dwarf,' Sam returned.

'I'm no more a dwarf than you are a giant,' Harry told him. Sam raised his eyebrows. 'Trust me, one of my closest friends is a half-giant and he'd tower over you.'

'Half-giant? No, wait, I don't want to know.'

'If you girls are done?' Dean cut in as he came back from the reception. 'I say we get suited up to play the Feds and head over to the morgue,' he nodded at Sam, then looked over at Harry, eyes narrowing slightly. 'You think you could head over to the guy's house, check things out?'

'Of course,' Harry said, glad to have something to do. He had been worried the hunters wouldn't let him participate. He knew he would have been wary had the roles been reversed. Dean stuck his upped body through the open driver's side window and came back with a few printed out articles, including the man's address, giving them to Harry.

'Meet back here after,' Dean told them as he got out his duffel bag and headed inside to get changed. Sam was about to follow, when he glanced back at Harry.

'Be careful,' he said. Harry nodded and popped away.

xxx

Dean and Sam had seen their share of dead bodies, but they still both made faces when the coroner pulled out this fine specimen. The body almost looked mummified, only the skin was still pinkish most places.

'The guy bled out?' Sam asked the old coroner, who looked a bit green around the edges.

'If that's what you want to call it,' he said with a sigh. 'Witnesses say there was just as much water as blood, and the body does seem to lack fluids, but even if that was possible, it doesn't account for the amount.' He picked up his clipboard with his rapport on it. 'From the time he was stabbed, to the time the paramedics got there, he shouldn't have been able to bleed out that much from such a shallow wound.'

'How big a knife was it?' Dean asked.

'No bigger than a medium sized kitchen knife, but it wasn't a knife, it was a sword, or dagger possibly.'

'Or the tip of a spear?' Sam asked, exchanging a meaningful glance with his brother. The coroner was still staring at his rapport, eyes filled with tiredness.

'Sure,' he mumbled. 'Why not?'

'So, the wound shouldn't have been lethal?' Dean asked him to clarify.

'Not really. He was stabbed in the stomach, but it missed any vital organs and didn't go deep enough. The paramedics should have gotten there on time.' The man shook his head. 'I tested the blood, what little that was left, and it's completely normal.'

'Thank you for your time,' Sam said, preparing to leave. 'Do you think we could have a moment?' He wanted to go over the body and look for any abnormalities a regular coroner might have missed.

'Sure,' the man said. 'You want me to pull out the others too?'

'Others?' Dean asked.

'Didn't anyone tell you? We had three more stabbings, two yesterday and one more this morning.' Sam and Dean followed the old man around the small morgue as he pulled out three more bodies, all looking similarly parched. The coroner looked ready to retire by that point.

'Any connection between the victims?' Dean asked.

'You'd have to ask the Sheriff,' the man told them. 'But nothing physically linking them from my perspective. Different ages and build, three men, one woman, one African-American and the others Caucasian, though one might be Jewish.' The man shrugged helplessly.

'Thanks,' Dean said. 'Mind if we...?'

'Oh, no, go ahead,' the man said, looking eager to leave, which he quickly did.

'Maybe you should get a head start on the Sheriff,' Dean suggested. 'I'll go over the bodies.' Sam nodded, eager to be out himself and more than willing to be off morgue duty for once.

It took Dean over an hour to go over the bodies thoroughly, but he found absolutely nothing out of the ordinary except for the small wound and the massive blood loss on each. He headed outside and found Sam leaning against the Impala, eating a sandwich.

'I got you one,' Sam said.

'Not hungry,' Dean replied, surprising himself. 'What'd you find?'

'No relation between the victims is an understatement,' Sam replied, tossing the rest of his sandwich in a nearby garbage can. 'As far as the police are concerned it looks like four random stabbings. The only thing in common is the weird bleeding and witness reports about water.'

They spoke as they got in the Impala. Dean gave a sigh as he started up his baby.

'Any luck on your end?' Sam asked.

'No marks, no sulfur, no nothing.'

'Except the stab wound from the Spear of Destiny?' Sam asked.

'Yeah, except that.'

'I don't get it, though, why the randomness?'

'Maybe whoever's using it is just testing it out,' Dean suggested, though the thought made him a little ill.

'And there's something off about the witness reports,' Sam continued as Dean drove back to the motel.

'What?'

'I don't know... the way the water pours out and the blood... it's not...'

'What?'

'Biblical,' Sam finished. 'It's like someone heard the story and tried to copy it, only they never read it so it's just... off.'

'You've read the Bible?'

'You haven't?'

'Well, not the whole thing, just the parts where the big plan plays out.'

'Well, I've read it and this whole thing just seems like a cheap knockoff.' Dean raised his eyebrows at that, but took the suggestion seriously. They headed back to see what the third member of their "team" had found.


	8. Legilimency

'You're being… nice,' Sam remarked as they drove into the parking lot of the motel. Dean gave him a look. 'I mean towards Harry,' Sam clarified. Dean didn't answer, getting out of the car. They noticed Harry was leaning against the wall by the door to their room. He pushed off when Sam and Dean approached.

'Find anything?' Dean asked.

'Nothing. Apparently there are four victims, though.'

'Yeah, we got that.'

'I checked all the residents. None of them had any signs of sulfur, hex bags, or anything magical. I asked around, and none of them had any enemies or recent break-ins.'

'So we've got nothing,' Dean surmised. Harry looked to Sam, who elaborated.

'The wounds on the bodies are too small to account for the blood loss, but other than that, it looks like a series of random stabbings.'

'Well, whoever is doing it, they're probably going to do it again,' Harry concluded. 'They're on a roll so far.' Sam pulled out his notebook and checked a few facts he had jotted down at the Sheriff's office.

'The only thing they had in common was how, and where, they died. All of them got stabbed along Main Street, or in an alley just off it. And while lots of people saw the result, no one actually saw the stabbing or who did it.'

'So, we're just gonna camp out along the killer's route and hope another person gets stabbed?' Dean did not like the idea of waiting for another victim.

'It might be our only option,' Harry said reluctantly. None of them found the idea of sitting on their hands appealing, but there had no other leads.

'I'm going to the diner,' Dean said eventually, turning and heading straight back to the Impala.

XXX

'Where is Lucius?' Snape asked, looking around their small camp. Draco looked up from the book he had been reading and glanced around.

'He went off a moment ago,' he said, sounding unconcerned. 'I suppose he'll be back soon enough.'

'You don't find it troubling that your father is alone in this wilderness?' Snape asked with a raised eyebrow. 'What reason could he possibly have to sneak off?'

'Sneak off?' Mr. Poole interrupted the pair as he stepped out of the tent. 'Do you suspect Mr. Malfoy of something Mr. Snape?'

'Not at all,' Snape replied evenly. 'I was merely concerned for one of my oldest friends.' The pair stared each other down. Draco knew Mr. Poole had heard their conversation from the other night, but didn't know what the man had concluded. Clearly, he didn't trust Snape anymore than Lucius did. They valued his skills, certainly, and his desire to see Draco safe, but anything else was questionable.

'I am touched,' Lucius suddenly spoke, appearing from behind a nearby tree as if he had been standing there all along, but Draco knew that not to be the case. The man approached the almost extinguished fire and looked at the two older men in turn, and then down his nose at Draco, who was seated on a log by the fire.

'We have a destination,' he announced.

'What?' Mr. Poole exclaimed. 'I have not-'

'I grow tired of your slow progress,' Lucius cut in. 'I have taken matters into my own hands.'

'Slow progress?' Mr. Poole gasped with exaggeration. 'The magicks I am using take their time, and Potter has been Apparating all over this vast country. I assure you that no one else could have tracked his movements as precisely as myself.'

'I do not care where Potter has been,' Lucius emphasized. 'I care where he will be, and now we know.'

'How?' Snape asked.

'That is not important. We have a destination, and we must hurry in case we miss him. Mr. Poole, why don't you make yourself useful and pack the tent.' With that Lucius turned and walked off towards the view Draco and Snape had been admiring the other night. He gazed peacefully off into the distance. Snape and Draco exchanged a glance. Who was Lucius in contact with? Whoever it was, it couldn't be good news for anyone involved.

Mr. Poole stuttered for a few moments before taking out his wand and waving it over the tent in a huff. The tent folded itself into a small napkin sized parcel, which Mr. Poole picked up with sharp movements and stuffed roughly into his pockets. Draco tired not to snicker at the man.

He could not deny the dread that had suddenly lodged itself in his stomach, however, and continued to exchange worried glances with his mentor.

XXX

'It's like they know we're here,' Harry suddenly muttered. The three men were seated at the local diner. The town wasn't much different from any other town the Winchesters had worked in. It wasn't very small, but not so large that it lacked that oppressive fear that small towns got when strange deaths occurred.

'You think?' Sam asked, skeptical. Usually, even though monsters knew hunters were in town, they couldn't help themselves and rarely stopped. They weren't dealing with a monster filled with bloodlust this time, however. What were they dealing with?

'Four stabbings within a week and then nothing?'

'Give the psycho killer a bit more time,' Dean said in a sarcastic sympathizing voice.

Suddenly, Harry got up from his chair so quickly it toppled over, causing some nearby patrons to jump and give him annoyed looks. Sam and Dean were instantly on alert, following Harry's gaze to see what he was looking at. Whatever it was, it was outside.

'What is it?' Dean asked.

'Something suspicious,' Harry explained and made his way to the exit. Sam and Dean, the latter dropping some bills on the table, followed quickly.

The sidewalk outside was fairly busy, despite the scare the town had had. Life always moved on in Dean's experience. Even people who knew about the supernatural world rarely turned to hunting unless they needed to avenge someone.

The hunters quickly realized Harry was following a man in a dirty trench coat. He actually looked like a homeless man, although they couldn't be sure from just seeing his back. Sam noted Harry had his wand in his hand, and was moving swiftly yet casually.

The man stopped abruptly, as if he had spotted something. It soon became clear what that was: the man was waiting for a young man in a suit, talking on a phone, to walk past him. They couldn't be sure, of course, but both hunters felt it in their guts. Harry shot a glance over his shoulder at them, and Dean nodded.

The three of them moved forward instantly, Dean surreptitiously taking out his gun. The hunters, being larger and more intimidating, came up on either side of the man and grabbed an arm each, Dean pressing his gun hard into the man's side.

'Hey man!' the man cried in protest. Harry reached into the man's trench coat and quickly produced a spear-tip. It looked like a dagger, with strange markings on it and and about three inches of wood from the actual spear tied to its base. 'I can explain that,' the man protested as if he had been caught with an illegal substance. The Winchesters quickly hauled his ass down the street and round the corner of the building, finding a bit more secluded spot behind at the back entrance to the diner.

They threw him up again the wall.

'Start talking,' Dean ordered, aiming his gun right in the man's face. The homeless man, for he did look very homeless, held up his hands in a gesture of helplessness.

'Please, please, I wasn't gonna do anything, I swear.' Dean knew a lie when he saw one.

'You're lying,' Sam took the words right out of his mouth. The man shook his head quickly, but then he seemed to slow down, and started shaking. It took a moment for the Winchester to realize the man was crying. They exchanged a glance of incredulousness as the man slid down the wall into a rather pathetic heap.

Killers in their world usually weren't that good actors. 

'I had to. He said they were bad,' the man hiccuped, barely coherent. 'He said I had to.'

'Who?' Dean pressed. The man was sobbing openly now.

'Hey, guys?' The Winchesters turned to Harry. The spear-tip was currently hovering in the air in front of Harry, who was levitating it with his wand while he examined it. Dean tried not to shiver at the display of power. It still creeped him out.

'I don't think this is the real deal,' Harry said. 'It's magic, but it's nowhere near powerful enough to be what you've described.'

'Someone made a cheap knock-off?' Dean speculated. He could see the wheels in Sam's head going into overdrive suddenly.

'Someone sent us here,' he said with certainty. 'Someone wants us chasing the fake nukes so the real ones go undetected.'

Dean turned back to the sobbing man.

'Who told you to do this?' he demanded.

'I don't know,' the man whimpered.

'A stranger tells you to kill a bunch of people and you just do it?'

'He said he'd help me, help me save my-' the man went back to sobbing incoherently. Dean sighed and threw up his hands in frustration. The bastard could at least have the decency to help them if he was feeling so damned remorseful.

'Mind if I have a go?' Harry asked. He approached cautiously, handing the fake Spear of Destiny to Sam. 'I don't usually like to use Legilimency, but I think this man's mind is weak enough for there to be minimal damage.'

'Whatever that means,' Dean told him, 'Just don't point your stick anywhere near me.' Sam gave the "grow up" look, which Dean returned with a "you first" sneer. 

Harry pointed his wand straight between the man's eyes. 'Look at me,' he said and the man slowly raised his head. The moment their eyes met Harry muttered a spell and the man's eyes went vacant.

It was creepy even though the guy totally deserved it. It lasted only about a minute before the man fell sideways, unconscious. Harry released a breath he had been holding.

'What did you do?' Sam asked.

'I looked into his mind.'

'Jesus,' Dean muttered. He made a mental note to not lie to the wizard.

'He doesn't know who it was, but I've seen his face. It was man, dark hair and light brown skin, middle-aged. He gave this man the spear and told him to kill until the hunters came.'

'Dammit,' Dean muttered. He gestured to the unconscious man. 'What do we do with him?'

'I suggest we give him to the local authorities. Somehow I suspect he'll be more than willing to confess, though it will have to be without his murder weapon.'

In the end Harry apparated the man in front of the police station.

XXX

Sam, Dean and Harry were all feeling edgy and tired when they got back to the motel. None of them were speaking about who it might be. Harry said he was going to try and draw the man, but his skills weren't near good enough.

Dean knew they had to call Cas.

He wasn't responding, however, so after getting sick of waiting for the angel Sam suggested they go out and drink. Well, Sam said dinner, since they hadn't actually eaten the last time, but Dean interpreted it his own way.

Harry declined, saying he would stay in and try to draw.

XXX

Harry had conjured parchment and a pencil and sat himself down on one of the beds, but he wasn't able to produce anything that resembled the man he had seen. He knew he could try and project the image to the Winchesters, though his skills with Legilimency were hardly good enough really, but somehow he knew they would decline having their minds invaded.

Harry could feel it every time he drew his wand in front of them. They would never understand magic or feel comfortable around it, simply because they didn't want to.

Harry accepted that.

Sitting cross-legged and staring at his pathetic attempts, he was just wishing for a different Dean's drawing skills when there was a distinct flutter of wings. His wand was in his hand instantly, and even though he looked up to greet Castiel with a sincere, if strained smile, he kept his wand hand ready to spring.

'Potter,' Castiel greeted.

'Castiel,' Harry returned. 'The Winchesters are out.'

'I know, they told me you were here.'

'And what can I do for you?'

'You can let me look into your mind to see who planned this deception.'

'Why not go find the homeless man?'

'His mind had been wiped.'

'What?' Harry sat up a bit straighter.

'Whoever did this did not anticipate you, nor that the Winchesters would be able to identify the Spear for a fake so quickly.'

'So, this plan was in motion before I came into the picture.'

'Yes,' Castiel sighed. He took a few steps, as if he was going to start pacing, but then appeared to change his mind and fixed Harry with a stern look. 'I must see who it is.'

'I'm sorry, but no,' Harry shook his head. The thought of ever letting another wizard in his mind was bad enough, and the thought of another magical entity- He tried not to let the true degree of his discomfort show, but apparently he wasn't entirely successful.

'I will not harm you,' Castiel told him. Harry suppressed a hysterical laugh from bubbling out at the thought of an angel saying that to him.

'I believe you, I do, but no, I'm sorry.'

'This is important. Someone has stolen the weapons of heaven and is making fools of us. If we do not find this creature we may be chasing more of these fakes.'

Harry wasn't really listening to Castiel's speech. He was in another place, with Voldemort. His scar was prickling, even though he knew it was all in his mind. At least he prayed - though a wizard shouldn't - that it was all in his mind. He closed his eyes.

'I must reach into you mind, only for a moment,' Castiel insisted. Harry's mind flashed back to pain and invaded nightmares. His hand came up to press against his scar, an automatic response he still had not shaken off. Castiel fell silent. Harry could feel his stare.

'I'm sorry,' Harry bit out, ashamed of his own reaction and display of weakness in front of the angel. 'I can't.' He made himself remove his hand and lift his gaze. Castiel's face was perfectly blank. 'I can describe him to you to the best of my abilities, and maybe I can project it into the Winchesters' minds, if you can convince them to let me, but you can't look into my mind.'

'It was the demon, Voldemort,' Castiel stated, not needing to guess who had invaded Harry's mind. Harry didn't let his gaze waver, though he wanted to. This angel was surely testing him, seeing if he could make him break down completely. Hell, maybe he even planned to overpower him to get the information. 'He tortured your mind.'

'Yes, frequently and with great delight on his part,' Harry said. Castiel's gaze flickered up to Harry's scar, the first time he had done so.

'A part of him was inside you.'

'Yes, that's how the story goes.'

'You and Sam Winchester have a lot in common.'

'I know.'

'As do we.' Harry frowned at that statement, unsure what this new game could mean. Castiel appeared sincere.

'How so?'

'We both fight for a world not our own, against the will of our brothers.' For a moment, Harry believed Castiel fully, but he had to keep his skepticism intact. Angels could decieve just as easily as humans, and while this Castiel was very different from the other angels Harry had met, that didn't mean Harry couldn't be just as much of an asshole.

'You do realise whoever is playing with us probably didn't give the fake spear away himself. He probably has minions to do the grunt work.'

'Yes, but I need to find that minion and question him.'

'Well, I'll talk to Sam and Dean and we'll work something out.' Castiel huffed in frustration.

'It would be easier-'

'I am not letting you in my mind!' Harry growled, tired of the argument. 'You don't trust me, and I don't trust you. That's the end of it.'

'Very well.' Suddenly, Castiel's hand came up and Harry was blinded by a pure, white light. He instinctively turned his head away and tried to shield himself with his hands.

Then he felt a hand on his forehead and tried to point his wand at the angel, but Castiel was quicker and grabbed his wrist. Harry's other hand came to grasp at the trench coat, but he was too focused on keeping the presence out of his mind that he couldn't struggle physically.

The presence was different than Voldemort. It resembled more a visual light than an energy. It was like he was being blinded by it, like he couldn't think about anything else but the whiteness. He knew this was how Castiel would get in: distract Harry's conscious mind while accessing the subconscious and his memories.

The whiteness built to such a degree Harry was sure he would have burned up had it been true light. Although Harry was not aware of it, much time passed.

Suddenly, an image came before him, clear as day, of the man he had seen give the Spear.

The hand was removed from his forehead. He wasn't aware of falling to the side on the bed, only of how dark it all was compared to the light.

It wasn't until he felt Castiel's hand on his cheek that he became aware of his physical body again.

'I'm sorry,' he heard the angel say, the voice even more gruff than usual. He felt groggy, like he had been sleeping an age, but he had never lost consciousness, or had he? Time seemed unimportant. 'I didn't know you would react this way. I have never looked into the mind of a wizard before. I am sorry. I meant you no harm.'

He felt the hand move from his cheek to his collar, undoing a few buttons on his shirt. It made him feel slightly better, actually, and he pulled in a deep breath. He realised Castiel was seated on the bed next to him.

'I'm… ok,' Harry eventually said. He felt all right at least. He wasn't sure what had happened. All he could remember was light. 'What happened?'

'You fought against me, and then you got lost for a moment in your subconscious.'

'I did?' Harry asked, surprised. He had no recollection of that. He blinked his eyes open and focused on Castiel, who was leaning over him a little too close for comfort.

'A series of bad memories overwhelmed you. You have some very… volatile memories.'

'Yeah, I know, I lived them,' Harry sighed. He didn't like the thought of what Castiel might have seen.

'I did not view them, if that's any consolation. I only got a few glimpses. I had to pull you out.' Harry met the angel's eyes in surprise.

'You did?'

'I told you I meant you no harm.'

'You just raped my mind to get what you wanted,' Harry snapped. Castiel actually looked uncomfortable, maybe even guilty.

'I was hasty.'

'That's an understatement.' Castiel's eyes were filled with sincere remorse as he gazed into Harry's.

'I did what I thought I had to do at the time,' he said seriously. 'I am sorry it caused you harm.'

'But not that you did it.'

'No.' Harry shook his head. He would never understand angels. The philosophy reminded him too much of "the greater good."

The door to the motel room suddenly opened, revealing Dean followed closely by Sam. The hunters stopped in their tracks at the scene that greeted them.

'Uh… are we interrupting something?' Dean asked. Castiel rose swiftly from the bed.

'It was Virgil, the weapons keeper of heaven,' he told them. 'I must go.' He didn't wait for a reply, as usual.

'Great, thanks for letting us know,' Dean grumbled. He gave Harry an odd look. 'You okay?'

'Yeah,' Harry sighed, slowly sitting up and locating his wand. 'Your angel is an evil bastard, but that's nothing new.'

'What happened?' Sam asked, concerned.

'Nothing, forget it.' Harry got up and went to use the bathroom. He washed his hands and face, staring at himself in the mirror and trying not to think about the white light, because every time he did, he could think of nothing else.


	9. The Angel

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In this chapter we get some major plot points that differ from the books.

_Hogwarts, End of Year Six._

The school was under attack.

Draco's mind seemed to have left his physical body. He knew his legs were running, somewhere, and that people were screaming, but it was like his ears were stuffed or he was at the bottom of a very deep well.

It was all his fault. Out of the history of great mistakes, this would surely rank among the best.

Suddenly, his body came to a screeching halt by a window. In the distance he could see the lights of Hogsmeade, its inhabitants blissfully unaware of the atrocities being committed just a short walk from their doorsteps. It wasn't the town that had caught his attention, however, but the briefest of glimpses of a silhouette against the moon.

They were barely visible, but Draco knew them instantly, and their direction.

The Astronomy Tower.

Draco's feet carried him up the stairs faster than they ever had before. He burst onto the platform with no thought to what he would actually find up there. The view down the length of his wand was not what he expected.

Dumbledore was barely alive, Draco knew it better than he knew his own death was near. And yet, the old man had the audacity to offer him help, sanctuary. From who- no, from what, exactly? There was no escape except death- although even that wasn't a certainty anymore.

Draco noticed his wand was shaking badly. He tried to breathe steadily, but it was as if his lungs were doing a dance inside his chest.

Then Snape burst through the door. He took one look at the scene and slammed the door shut behind him, casting a locking spell. He approached Draco slowly. Thank Merlin, Draco thought, Snape would help him.

'Lower you wand, Draco,' Snape said slowly. What? Draco's hope died before it had had the chance to take a breath.

'What?'

'Severus,' Dumbledore pleaded, though for what Draco could not say. 'Do not hesitate now.'

'There is new information,' Snape told him urgently. 'The Dark Lord knows what I have found. I highly doubt I can convince him to trust me with that knowledge.'

'You must try,' Dumbledore insisted.

There was loud banging on the door. Draco's body shook with each bang. He could hear Aunt Bellatrix' wild screaming.

'Do it now,' Dumbledore ordered.

'You must listen!'

'For your godson, Severus, or else you condemn both of you to death.' Snape looked at the Headmaster with a strange, wild and confused look, but he raised his wand, steady as a rock. Draco's own fell to his side.

Snape's voice rang out just as the door burst open.

'Avada Kedavra!'

Dumbledore fell. Draco was certain he saw a smile on the old man's face before he disappeared over the side. Then Draco's arm was grabbed hard and he was dragged past several Death Eaters. He stumbled several times, but Snape pulled him downwards relentlessly.

It was not until they were approaching the Forbidden Forest that Draco's mind caught up with his body. He yanked his arm free and stopped. Snape spun around, glaring.

'We do not have time for more of your stupidity!'

'Where are we going?'

'Somewhere safe.'

Suddenly, Harry Potter appeared out of thin air, despite them being inside the anti-apparition wards. Draco was quite sure his body would fall apart at the next shock.

'Running away, Snape?' Potter snarled. 'You weren't lying when you said you would do anything for your position.'

'You know not the nature of the information I have received. Albus' last wish was for me to put him out of his misery. His death served no purpose.'

'How can you say that?'

'One word: demon,' Snape hissed. His face was contorted by more than just anger; there was fear as well. Potter's face changed so quickly and dramatically it was as if someone had pulled off a mask. Snape's eyes narrowed. 'You suspected?'

'I'm connected to the bastard,' Potter snapped, 'of course I suspected, but Dumbledore-' he choked on the name- 'the Headmaster's been ignoring me all year. I couldn't get him to... listen.' Snape almost looked sympathetic.

'We must leave and regroup. This requires a whole new strategy.' He looked to Draco. 'Come.'

Draco's head was shaking without him being consciously aware of it. He took a step back.

'No, you are both insane.'

'Don't be foolish!' Snape reached out a hand. Draco recoiled. His heart was pounding. He was only now realizing what it all meant.

'You're the spy,' he blurted out. 'You've betrayed us.'

'Not you, Draco, the demon!'

'You think you can escape a demon!? I've known for months-' Snape's eyes went wide in shock and Draco slapped a hand over his month. He had uttered the words he had been terrified to even think. His hand touched a wet face. Apparently, he was crying.

'Then you must come with me. If he suspects even for a second that you know, you will be killed on sight.'

'I'd rather be dead than in hell,' Draco whispered before turning and running. He heard Snape's angry yell, but it quickly faded as the noises from the fighting overwhelmed him. Still he ran. He ran until he collapsed against the walls of the castle, utterly exhausted.

He knew it even before he reached Hogwarts: he had made another terrible mistake.

XXX

_America, Present Day:_

Harry stared at his face in the bathroom mirror, trying not to see Castiel's white light in his mind. It disturbed him more than he could admit to himself that another entity had entered his mind without permission.

For the greater good.

Harry tried to see Castiel in relation to his own war, his own actions, and yes, he could forgive him in a way, but on a personal level he loathed the angel.

A loud bang interrupted his thoughts. From the volume and location, he was certain someone had just broken in the door.

'I suggest you don't even attempt it,' came a sneering voice. Harry knew that sneer anywhere.

Lucius.

Harry moved to the bathroom door. It was open just a crack, and Harry could spy upon the scene outside.

Lucius had moved swiftly into the room, being now closest to the bathroom door. Sam and Dean were standing between the beds, close together and with their hands raised. They looked more than a little pissed off at being caught unawares.

Severus Snape and Draco Malfoy stood by the broken door. All three wizards had their wands pointed at the hunters.

'Where is Potter?' Lucius demanded.

'You mean the short guy with glasses?' Dean asked, showing no fear at all. Harry wondered if he would have acted differently had he known the true power of Lucius' twisted magic. 'Haven't seen him since the circus you call a trial... mate,' he added. 

'I would caution you not to mock me, yank,' Lucius retorted. 'I know he is with you.'

Harry made his move before Lucius decided to search the room. He was out the door and at Lucius' back before the man had time to turn around. He lunged and grabbed the man's wand arm, twisting it painfully, pressing his own wand to the man's neck. Lucius gave a grunt of pain, caught unawares by the physical attack.

'Draco, Severus, kill the muggles now!' he ordered as Harry forced him to kneel from the pain. There was a moment's pause as all the occupants of the room took in the situation. Harry watched Snape and Draco closely. He hoped to Merlin Snape was still on his side, despite everything. Both men still had their wands trained on the hunters.

Draco, being the closest of the two, had his wand trained on Dean's chest.

'Kill him, Draco,' Lucius ordered again. Dean actually looked a bit nervous, eying Draco while keeping a close watch on Lucius and the whole situation. Sam looked like he wanted to say something, but wisely said nothing.

Slowly, to the surprise of quite a few, though not all, Draco's wand moved from Dean to Lucius. After only the barest of pauses, Snape did the same.

'What is the meaning of this?' the elder Malfoy spluttered.

'I'm afraid I have no interest in your plans,' Draco told him. Harry let go, leveling his own wand at the man's back. Lucius stared from Draco to Snape and back. 'I told you I just wanted to stay at home and do my work.'

'I knew you were false, Severus, I knew it,' Lucius proclaimed, 'but I had no idea your corruption had seeped into my own flesh and blood.'

'Actually, I came to my own conclusions long ago,' Draco said.

'I'll let you leave,' Harry cut in, deciding that letting Lucius sprout off more nonsense would be stupid. 'Just go quietly.'

'You intend to leave me stranded in the middle of No Man's Land?'

'I'll toss you your wand once you're outside, and I expect you to Apparate away immediately.' Harry reasoned it was better Lucius went away at once. If he was without a wand he would no doubt do damage to the muggle population simply out of spite. He could still be dangerous. Better he be alone and outnumbered. Lucius seemed to weigh his options and then rose, walking out of the room. The others let him pass. As he walked past his son he leaned closer and hissed:

'You are no son of mine.' Draco returned his glare with surprising calm.

'The father I loved died a long time ago,' he replied. Lucius merely sneered and walked out. He turned once he reached the Impala parked just outside and Harry tossed him his wand. He caught it. Another man- Mr. Poole Harry recognized - suddenly stepped forward from behind the car.

'What's going on?' he asked, voice nervous and pathetic.

'Back to the camp,' Lucius muttered. Mr. Poole disapparated immediately. Lucius gave Harry one of his trademark sneers.

'This isn't over, Potter,' he said just before he disappeared. Harry turned back to the others. Snape and Draco had put their wands away, while Sam and Dean had put their hands down, although all parties were looking at each other distrustfully. Harry sighed. The situation was getting out of control.

'How did you find us?' Harry asked first.

'I do not know,' Snape replied. 'Lucius had a contact of some sort. He would not say who, or what...' Snape let the implication hang heavily in the air.

'No,' Draco whispered. 'He's many things, but that-' he shook his head, eyes clouded with some darkness only he could see. 'That's impossible.'

'Let's not jump to any conclusions yet,' Harry advised. 'He may have gotten lucky.' He looked at Draco suddenly. 'Why did you do it?' The young Malfoy looked at him with confusion, eyebrows furrowed.

'What do you mean?'

'I mean, what the hell made you help us? I would think, considering the last time I asked for your help, you would be only too happy to-'

'What are you talking about?' Draco was looking at him as if he were mad. 'You think I'd sooner kill this muggle than help you?' He gestured towards Dean, who made a look as if to say "keep me out of this."

'Well, last time-'

'Last time? I gave you what you asked for, no questions asked!'

'No questions asked?' Harry cried incredulously. He felt as if he was missing a vital piece of some puzzle, and the dread in his gut told him he wouldn't like the picture it made once he had it. 'I had to have it stolen from you!'

'Stolen? I gave it to your angel just as you asked! Just as Severus instructed.'

'What?' The bottom dropped out of Harry's stomach. Draco was staring at him with shock, but no deceit. He was just as confused as Harry was. He looked away, mind reeling, walking a few steps towards the bathroom, trying to get his mind around what Draco was telling him, and what it meant.

'Why do I get the feeling you have done something monumentally stupid?' Snape asked.

'Because I have,' Harry said, voice wavering as he realized the implications of his mistake. 'Though how big exactly we've yet to find out.'

'Someone mind filling in the normal people?' Dean butted in.

XXX

_Somewhere in Britain, Year Seven:_

'This is the most idiotic idea you've had yet,' Snape groused for perhaps the tenth time. Harry decided he would skip the eye-rolling in response and continue with his preparations. It felt strange to be doing a ritual with ingredients and words that didn't feel magical in his hands, but according to the book they were the right stuff. Still, it all felt... fake.

'The only thing you will accomplish is our deaths,' Snape muttered from where he stood leaning against the wall, arms crossed across his chest. They were in an old abandoned house not far from Godric's Hollow. They had made it their meeting place since Grimauld Place wasn't safe.

Their new hideout wasn't much better. It was a sorry two-story affair made of brick with holes in the roof and rotted furniture that smelled of cat. They had cleared most of it out, but the smell lingered.

Right now it looked like the setting for a b-movie about a witch coven. Harry continued to ground up the ingredients in the regular cauldron. He had the right candles lit, no thanks to Snape. Ironically, it was Snape who had first spoken the thought out loud: why not contact the angels for information? At least find out it if "heaven" knew who Voldemort really was, and how powerful a demon.

Harry finished the preparations and picked up the old muggle book of magic, a contradiction in itself Harry thought, but there is was.

The most important thing they had to do was find a way to convince the entire wizarding world that Voldemort was no wizard. If they could convince enough people, maybe they could spur the population into action. The fall of the Ministry had come so easily Harry was frankly embarrassed, and Hogwarts was now ruled over by none other than Dolores Umbridge. Harry shuddered at the thought.

He focused on speaking the non-magical magical Latin. There was an ominous gust of wind that made Snape stand up straight and step closer to Harry and the circle he had made of chalk on the floor. They exchanged a glance of cautious anticipation.

Nothing happened.

'Maybe you did it wrong,' Snape suggested, although he did seem less skeptical than he had a moment ago. Harry knew how he felt; there was definitely something in the air.

A sound, like the flutter of angry birds, interrupted Harry's retort and a person appeared in front of them. Not a person, an angel.

He was tall, thin, middle-aged and blond. He wore jeans, a gray t-shirt and a black blazer over it. His skin was tan, and a bit wrinkled. To sum it all up, he looked utterly non-magical. The only thing that made Harry certain they had summoned the right thing was the knowledge winking at them through the light blue eyes.

'This isn't an official call-up, judging from the decor, unless you wizards like this sort of thing,' he gestured vaguely to the hollowed out room. The wallpaper was peeling, the curtains were a dull brownish gray and moist, matching the stained carpet. 'So, I think, you're in a lot of trouble,' the angel concluded a little gleefully.

'What's your name?' Harry asked, trying to keep all emotion from his voice. It was hard, however, because from what he'd read of these so-called angels, or non-veela as the textbooks referred to them, their main purpose was to dupe mankind into believing in a higher power.

'Names are so unimportant in the grand scheme of things,' the angel sighed. He had an English accent, which was odd, Harry supposed. 'So, why have a pair of wizards called me?'

'It's a bit of a long story,' Harry said, glancing at Snape, who looked very suspicious.

'I'm all ears,' the angel smiled. Harry sighed and began explaining about the demon in their midst. The angel listened with interest.

'I was not aware of the demon,' the angel said. 'Heaven will be very interested to hear of this. They do not want the non-involvement agreement broken any more than you do.'

'That's what we assume, but we need to know how powerful Voldemort is, and how to kill him.'

'Yes, of course,' the angel agreed amicably. 'Let me go make some... inquires.'

'You do that,' Snape spoke up for the first time, 'and know that our people will not be happy when they find out they have been dumped. The wizarding world could very well declare war on you next.'

'Thanks for the head's up,' the angel said sarcastically. 'I'll keep in touch... Potter.' Before Harry could question how the angel knew his name, the creature had disappeared. Harry sighed and looked at Snape, who raised an eyebrow at him.

'I know, worst idea ever.'

'That remains to be seen. You could still come up with something even more stupid.' The man stalked out of the room, leaving Harry doubting, but oddly hopeful. At least they were doing something. The horcrux hunt wasn't exactly going swimmingly, and he wasn't even sure that was the correct way to kill Voldemort anymore. What if the demon still survived? What if they were just killing the body of the person Voldemort had possessed, which Harry assumed was Tom Riddle. Had Tom Riddle known, invited him in? It was suppose to be impossible to possess a wizard, yet Voldemort had done so.

There were too many questions. They needed the angel's help, though Harry wasn't about to trust him.

XXX

_America, Present Day:_

'The angel lied,' Harry said. He realized he was staring into the bathroom, seeing his face in the mirror. He looked away. 'I knew he would, but under the circumstances I believed him because...'

'Believing in me was too much of a stretch?' Draco guessed. 'I risked my life stealing that locket! The bitch almost caught me. If she hadn't been practically in love with me I would have been hanged in the dungeons!'

'What did you give the angel in exchange for "stealing" the items from Draco,' Snape cut to the core of the problem. Harry closed his eyes, feeling the crushing weight of his mistake. 'Well?' Snape promptly harshly.

'The Resurrection Stone,' Harry confessed. 'I thought it would be worthless to him. I didn't even think he understood the magicks behind it. He was an angel! What could he possibly need a resurrection stone for?'

'The fact that he fooled you into giving it to him-'

'I know! I know, he obviously wanted it for something...' The room fell silent as they all tried to guess at the angel's purpose.

'You ever get this angel's name?' Dean asked.

'No, he wouldn't say,' Harry shook his head. 'Or rather, all the names he did give me were lies.' Harry knew exactly how they could find out, however, and all he needed to do was repeat the ordeal he had just undergone. He shuddered involuntary at the thought.

'We need to get back to Britain,' Snape suddenly announced.

'You're leaving?' Harry asked, a bit shocked. He hadn't expected Snape or Malfoy to stick around and hunt with them, but he thought they'd at least have a bit more discussion on several topics.

'If we are to have any chance of stopping this war before it begins, that is where we must try,' Snape declared grimly. 'Lucius will no doubt go back to the Minister and poison him against us, not that that fool's support will do us much good.'

'What will you do?'

'I believe Draco is the one who will be doing something.' The young Malfoy looked as surprised to hear this as Harry felt.

'What?'

'I will explain once we are home safe.' Snape nodded briefly to Harry, not even glancing at the hunters. 'Potter.'

'Could you give me a moment?' Malfoy asked. Snape sighed.

'Meet me at our agreed exit destination.' Malfoy nodded and Snape swept out of the motel room. Harry looked at Malfoy for a long moment, brow furrowed as he tried to figure out why Malfoy looked so strange to him.

'You're wearing muggle clothes,' Harry suddenly realized. Malfoy blinked before cracking a smile and laughing softly. He looked extremely different when he smiled, and the lack of school-boy hair did wonders for him.

'I do know how to blend in, Potter,' Malfoy informed him. He looked at the two hunters. 'I see your manners, however, will never improve. Why don't you make introductions.'

'Uh, right,' Harry said stupidly. 'Sam, Dean, this is Draco Malfoy. Malfoy, this is Sam and Dean Winchester.' He gestured at the appropriate times. Malfoy actually stepped up to them and shook their hands. Sam and Dean put on polite faces. They weren't quite as suspicious as they had been, but they weren't going to trust him.

'A pleasure, I'm sure,' Malfoy said. He then turned back to Harry and gave him an odd look. 'I don't suppose you've brought any money?'

'What? Why would I bring galleons to America?' Harry asked.

'I didn't mean legal tender,' Malfoy returned, fishing something out of his pocket and tossing it at Harry, who caught it automatically. It was a coin from Dumbledore's Army. He had used it with Malfoy during the last stages of the war, though clearly not as much as he should. He had completely forgotten about them.

'Would this work across the pond?' he asked, sounding doubtful.

'I've been amplifying it,' Malfoy explained. 'Trust me, it will work.'

'I'm not sure I'm comfortable carrying around a magical artifact you've been tampering with, Malfoy,' Harry said.

'I suggest you get around to trusting me a bit more, Potter, before you make another big mistake.' Harry ground his teeth together in an attempt not to rise to the bait. 'We will be in touch.' With one last almost friendly nod to the hunters, Malfoy left the room. They heard the distant pop of Apparition.

Harry didn't know what to say to the hunters, or where to begin to explain. Finally, Sam broke the silence.

'Should we get out of here?'

'Yeah, probably best not to stay the night,' Harry agreed. They packed up silently and hit the road.

The hunters knew all about needed a break before getting into explanations, so they let Harry stew in the backseats with his thoughts the first few miles.


	10. The Demon

The car rolled towards Bobby's almost on its own accord, its occupants silent, like the Impala knew that her passengers needed to regroup and think things through. Would there even be regular hunts after this? When would this "war" come? What kind of war could there be between powers so different? 

Finally, Sam shifted in his seat so he could look back at Harry. The young wizard was in the middle of the backseat, head down. He looked tired and pensive.

'You want to talk about it?'

'I guess I have to,' Harry sighed. 'I'm not sure where to start.'

'Why don't you tell us who the wizard dudes were,' Dean suggested. 'Start with the big bad blond one.'

'Lucius Malfoy,' Harry told them. 'He's a right bastard, and dangerous.'

'And you let him go?'

'Trust me, he would have caused more trouble had I left him somewhere. Besides, this is No Man's Land, and even if I was still an Auror I wouldn't have any authority over him.'

'If this is No Man's Land to you people,' Dean snapped, 'then you could have done whatever the hell you wanted to him.'

'I know what you're suggesting,' Harry said, 'but Draco wouldn't have let me do it without a fight.'

'His son?' Sam asked, curious.

'Yes,' Harry sighed again, feeling the guilt stab at him. 'I'm only just now realizing how long Draco's been on our side.' He shook his head. 'I was blinded by... childish anger. We were school rivals, sort of, and he could be a real bastard too, but he was never evil like his father. Spoiled, arrogant, cowardly...'

'Why cowardly?' Sam asked, eyebrows furrowing. 'He stood against his own father, that takes a lot of courage.'

'Maybe, but he's done some pretty cowardly things before.' Harry didn't want to talk about Draco. It just made the guilt nag at him, and Sam seemed to take the hint, though he was clearly curious.

'What about the other wizard?'

'Severus Snape. He used to be my teacher. We can trust him, and if he trusts Draco then we should too,' Harry said. 'He's saved my life more times than I can ever hope to count.'

'Snape, Draco, Lucius?' Dean spoke up. 'Are you the only one with a regular name?' Harry gave a halfhearted smile at the attempt at levity.

'They're pureblood names, from old wizarding families. My mother had muggle parents, and my father was from a fairly modern pureblood family, so I got to avoid a weird name.'

'Where are they now, your parents?' Sam asked, the tone of his voice betraying what he suspected.

'Dead, killed by Voldemort.' Dean and Sam exchanged the quickest of glances, the kind that was just to make sure they were both thinking the same thing, which they were. 'When I was one year old.'

'What is it about demons and killing people with babies?' Dean muttered.

'Where did you grow up?' Sam asked.

'With my aunt and uncle, and cousin, but let's not get into that,' Harry said, leaning forward suddenly in his seat. 'Do you mind pulling over there?' he asked, pointing to an approaching gas station. 'I need to eat something, how about you guys?'

'Sure,' Dean said, sending another worried glance at Sam. He parked outside the gas station and Harry got out quickly. Sam decided to follow. As they fell into step on their way inside Sam glanced at Harry's profile. Sam had seen a lot of people bottle up hurt, so he could easily see something was off, and it had been off since before the wizards busted into their motel room.

'You okay?' he asked. Harry didn't answer at first, holding open the door for Sam. The place was small, but held enough snacks to keep them sugar-filled till Bobby's. As Harry inspected some American sweets he hadn't seen before, he glanced up at Sam, who was still waiting patiently.

'I'm fine, Sam.'

'Did... did Cas do something to you?' The hunter noted the change in posture, the slight stiffness and the tightening in the jaw, as well as the over-casual shrug and the way Harry abruptly put back the candy bar and grabbed another. He became very interested in its nutritional facts.

'I'm not sure what you mean,' Harry said.

'When we walked in on you,' Sam explained, watching the young man intently. 'You were on the bed, and he seemed to be leaning over you.'

'It's nothing to worry about.' Harry grabbed three candy bars at random and went to the cash register. The old clerk looked them over, but said nothing as Harry paid.

'Then what was he doing?' Sam asked as Harry turned away, deliberately not looking the hunter in the eye.

'He looked into my mind,' Harry muttered, 'so he could see who delivered the fake Spear of Destiny.' He pushed through the door, past Sam's shocked expression. He could see Dean in the Impala, slapping the wheel to some song on the radio. He hadn't walked two steps before Sam grabbed his shoulder and spun him around.

'What the hell does that mean?' Sam demanded.

'Forget it, it doesn't matter,' Harry said sharply. 'What's done is done.' Sam looked like he wanted to either yell or offer comfort. 'Just don't tell you brother-'

'Did it hurt?'

'No,' Harry lied, but it was hallow. He turned and continued towards the car. Dean had gotten out to see what was the matter. He was leaning over the open door.

'Everything okay?' he asked as Harry approached.

'Fine,' he said, getting in without another word. Dean waited for Sam, raising an eyebrow at his brother in question.

'It was nothing,' Sam mumbled and got in. Dean followed after a beat, but he didn't start the car just yet.

'Anyone care to explain why the mood is below freezing right now?' he asked, looking at Sam and Harry in turn. Neither man returned his stare.

'It's nothing,' Harry said.

'Well, it doesn't feel like nothing,' Dean returned, annoyed. 'What the hell's wrong with you?'

'I'm gonna go on ahead,' Harry announced. 'You guys can catch up.'

'What?'

The wizard popped away, leaving Dean gaping at the empty backseat. Eventually he faced the front, fixing his attention on his brother, who was staring resolutely at his knees.

'If he's gonna do that every time he's got his panties in a twist, we're gonna have a problem.'

'I think he needs some time,' Sam said.

'It's over a day's ride yet back to Bobby's, so I hope he gets enough.' Dean put the car in drive and shot of out the parking lot a little faster than was strictly safe.

XXX

Harry appeared outside the wards he had erected around Bobby's. He stomped through the woods, angry at everything – the bird song, the trees and the glint of old cars in the distance. Why had he told Sam? He never could keep secrets if their reveal was only detrimental to him personally.

Bobby must have spied him from the window, for he came out to meet him on the porch. He eyed Harry up and down.

'What happened?' he asked.

'I needed a break,' Harry said, feeling suddenly awkward. He didn't know the old man, and Bobby probably wouldn't appreciate Harry bad-mouthing the brothers.

'What about the case?'

'It's a long story.' Something must have shown on Harry's face because Bobby nodded behind him and motioned for Harry to come inside.

'You better fill me in,' he said. Harry sighed and went in.

XXX

Harry and Bobby got along well enough by staying out of each others' hair. When the boys arrived things got a little tense. Dean was the first to cut through it, as usual.

'You and Bobby been having a good time?' he asked sarcastically, sitting on the couch, beer already in hand. Harry was standing so he could look out the window, watching the perimeter. He hadn't been able to relax since Lucius found them.

'A grand ol' time,' he murmured. 'You have a nice ride?'

'You deal with whatever you were dealing with?' Dean asked.

'Dean,' Sam reprimanded quietly. He was leaning against the wall by the kitchen doors.

'Sam didn't tell you?'

'Whatever it was, don't make a habit of that beaming stuff. It's annoying.'

'Boys,' Bobby interrupted, coming in from the kitchen. 'Why don't we all put away our hurt feelings and talk about the important stuff?' He went and sat behind his desk, also with a beer.

'Nothing much we can do without Cas reporting in,' Sam pointed out. 'We can't go off chasing fake angelic nukes.'

'But the fake ones still kill people,' Dean said, 'so I say we keep hunting.'

'Dean, I think we need to focus on the big picture here,' Sam argued. 'I hate the thought of people dying, but if we're going to stop all this we need to find the real ones.'

'We're not going to find them,' Harry spoke up, eyes on the woods beyond the yard. 'Your angel is, but until he gives us what we need, we should help all the people we can.' Dean raised his eyebrows in surprise at being agreed with. 'We can't condemn people to death just because whatever's killing them isn't what we're after.'

'I know that,' Sam told him, 'but we need to be realistic.'

'Focus on the greater good?' Harry asked. The others could hear from his tone what he thought about that concept. Sam sighed.

'Dude-' he began.

'Don't call me that,' Harry said. 'It just sounds wrong.'

'You'd prefer mate?' Sam asked dubiously.

'No, that sounds worse.' Out of frustration, Sam came forward abruptly to stand beside Harry.

'What are you looking at?' he wanted to know, gazing out the window.

'Nothing,' Harry sighed.

'You're on edge.' Sam didn't speak the rest of his thought out loud: "and it's different than before."

'Lucius Malfoy managed to find us far quicker than I ever thought possible,' Harry explained. 'I want to know how.'

'Can you find out?' Bobby asked.

'Maybe.' There was a sudden buzzing sounds, faint, almost like a phone on a table somewhere. Harry dug into his pocket and came up with a large gold coin. He seemed to check it's front as if he was looking at a pager, and then snorted.

'What?'

'Just Malfoy proving he's still a childish git. He gave me this to communicate with and he just wanted to make sure I was okay with giving one to my best friend.'

'So? How's that being a git?' Sam asked.

'He's only doing it so he can continue to rub Hermione's face in the fact that he improved the device in a way she hadn't thought of.' Harry put away the coin and then drew his wand. 'I have to go.'

'Where?'

'To my original contact in America. He's an outcast, but he knows people all over. I think it's highly likely that Lucius got information on me from him.'

'You want us to come with you?' Sam offered.

'No, no offense, but bringing muggles into this won't help.' Harry nodded to the other two occupants. 'I'll be back in a few hours.' With that he popped away. Dean looked grumpy about the beaming so Sam went and made some lunch.

XXX

The man who had originally run from Britain due to his cost-cutting cauldron making had made quite the life in America. Harry hadn't known much about the man when he had first arrived, looking for information about muggle hunters and how they operated. One look a the man's dwelling should have tipped him off as to what sort of business the man had entered.

He lived on the first floor of a run down building, over what had probably once been a restaurant or maybe a diner. The front windows had been broken so many times the owner had just boarded it up, and you could barely see the brick underneath the graffiti.

The door that lead upstairs was in the back alley. Harry felt the wards the man had put up, even fainter than last time. There was no great wizard living here, that was certain. The light was broken, so Harry chanced a Lumos as he ascended the stairs. It felt like going into a cave.

The door was unlocked, but warded. Harry broke through with barely a flick of his wand, and entered quietly. Inside was an assortment of books that might have made Bobby jealous. The main decor of the room was cauldrons, most of them hanging from the ceiling, in varying sizes and materials, most of them with holes.

The only furniture was a small desk pressed into a corner with a chair, both of which were overflowing with parchments, a tiny red couch pressed into the opposite corner with an equally tiny table in front of it. There was a single door across from the entrance, and a single window overlooking the back alley.

It was also completely empty of life, unless you counted the jars of unknown contents all over the floor wherever there was room between the stacks of books. There was barely space left to walk between the desk and couch.

Harry took a few steps inside nonetheless and went to the desk to check if the wizard had left any telling notes behind. As he touched the first parchment, he felt a shiver of foreign magic.

Demon magic.

He spun around immediately, realizing he had tripped a ward or alert of some kind, and raised his wand at the demon who had appeared.

'You,' Harry said, instead of the curse he had been planning.

'Me,' Crowley greeted. 'I thought you'd be happy to see me. Aren't you fed up with them yanks by now?'

'You still identify as Scottish after centuries of being a demon?' Harry asked with a raised eyebrow. He kept his wand level.

'Trust me,' Crowley said. 'Prejudices are the last to die.' He looked about the room as if to assess its potential. 'So, what brings you to this little wizard's abode?'

'None of your business. Why do you have wards here?' Harry had an epiphany. 'You've taken him, and this was just to see if I'd come back and you could get me too, is that it?'

'My, my, you do have quite the ego,' Crowley mocked. 'It's all about you, is it? Why would I want some wizard?'

'You... you're trying to do what Voldemort did,' Harry said in sudden realization, his face unable to contain the horror at the thought.

'I have absolutely no desire to squeeze myself into one of your infected meat-suits,' Crowley declared, and he sounded disgusted enough that Harry considered believing him. 'Someone else has taken your man.'

'Who? Not Malfoy,' Harry murmured, speaking more to himself than the demon. 'That would make no sense. If he did get information from here, he would have paid the man to keep him informed should I ever come back.'

'Not the Einstein of wizards, are you?' Crowley interrupted his train of thought. Harry gave him a glare, but it faded as he puzzled it out.

'Voldemort took him- but no, he's still in hell-...? Surely.'

'Yes, he's still downstairs, calm down,' Crowley reassured him, albeit with a good dose of impatience. 'He still has followers on this plain, however.'

'And he wants them to recreate what he did...?'

'You really are slow, aren't you?' Crowley shook his head in annoyance. 'I'm surprised your Angel hasn't informed you. I'm giving you all this for free, you understand?'

'Why?'

'Well, there are lots of reasons, but the one you should be focusing on is that I'm on your side.' At Harry's incredulous stare, Crowley added: 'By default.'

'I know demons like to take the piss, but if you think I'm that stupid-'

'Think about it,' Crowley urged. 'The Angels want Lucifer out of his box, and the Apocalypse back on, and what do you know? That's exactly what your pal Voldemort wants too! It's all he's thinking about. He's desperate for Daddy's approval.'

'Voldemort didn't seem the Daddy type,' Harry commented.

'He's convinced he'll get your world to rule, as a reward,' Crowley explained.

'So, why's he kidnapping a wizard?' 

Crowley sighed, clearly frustrated with Harry's lack of understanding. Then, finally, he gave a straight answer.

'It's all about the souls. That's how this war is going to be fought.'

'But you can't drag a wizard's soul to hell, not without a deal,' Harry argued.

'They're not in hell, not yet.'

'They?'

'As many stray wizards as Voldy's followers can get their hands on.'

'Where is he keeping them?' Harry felt an immediate urge to kill the bastard all over again, only this time much more slowly. If there was a place on earth demons were keeping wizards captive, he was going to find it and save them, even if most of them were exiles and criminals.

'That's not important. You need to understand what kind of war that's coming.'

'I don't care-' Harry sighed. He knew he had to care. He lowered his wand, feeling too tired to keep it trained on the annoying demon. 'How is a war fought with souls?'

'Let's put it this way,' Crowley began. 'Right now it's an arms-race. One side is using a lot of weapons with a low caliber, while the other side is trying to bet on fewer weapons, but a much higher caliber.'

'I get you're using a gun metaphor,' Harry said, 'but I would rather you just spit it out.'

'Fine,' Crowley said, looking rather hurt. 'Right now Voldemort is doing three things. One, crawling out of hell as fast as he can. Two, trying to find out how Sam got out of hell so he can do the same thing for Lucifer. And three, trying to tap into the wizard soul, which is, according to legend, a bit more powerful than your average, muggle, soul.'

'Souls with magic,' Harry finally saw the big picture. He gave Crowley a shrewd stare. 'You said arms-race, and I remember you saying you're moving up in the world. How are you doing that, exactly?'

'Don't you worry about my business just yet,' Crowley warned him. 'I suggest stopping the world from imploding first, then you can worry about us regular demons.'

'Tell me where the wizards are being kept,' Harry demanded.

'I don't know, yet,' Crowley explained. 'But when I do, the information won't come cheap.'

'You know, I almost can't hear your Scottish brogue anymore. You sound practically American,' Harry commented snarkily.

'English bastard,' Crowley muttered. 'Just so you know, those wards of yours can't keep me out,' he smirked. 'I'll always be able to find Bobby's.' With that he disappeared, leaving Harry sighing and rubbing his forehead.

He popped back to Bobby's after putting up a few warning charms of his own. The three hunters were in the living room where Harry had left them, the younger ones on the couch, all three reading or drinking, or both. Dean and Sam looked up at Harry's appearance.

'You okay?' Sam asked.

'Fine, but we're not,' Harry sighed. 'Crowley showed up and told me quite the story.'

'We've had a visit from Castiel ourselves,' Dean said. Sam shot him a look that clearly said "don't", but Dean wasn't even looking at him. 'He said he wanted to apologize for invading your mind.'


	11. Conversing with Your Enemy

Harry cleared his throat as he tried to think of something to say. Dean's face was stone cold, and Harry was a little confused by that.

'I think that issue can wait,' he told the hunters. 'You need to hear what Crowley had to say.'

'So it's true?' Dean asked, a bit more forcefully than Harry thought necessary. Then the penny dropped, and Harry realized Dean didn't want to believe his angel friend would do that. Well, Harry certainly wasn't going to deny him that knowledge.

'Yes, he did, and it wasn't very pleasant,' he informed them. 'But I can't talk about this now.' Dean rose abruptly, going into the kitchen and getting himself another beer. Harry looked to Sam, who gave him a "I don't know" look and shrug.

'What did Crowley say?' Bobby asked. Harry launched into the tale, giving them all the information they needed. When he was finished Sam had a hard look on his face.

'You want to rescue the wizards, right?' he asked unnecessarily.

'Yes, as soon as Crowley gives me a location, I'm gone.'

'We're coming with you,' Sam told him, but Harry shook his head.

'No, these are my people, it's my fight.'

'Bullshit.' Harry spun around at Dean's exclamation. The older Winchester was leaning against the door frame, beer almost finished. 'The whole reason you're here is because you want to convince "your people" that it's everybody's fight, so there's no way in hell you're gonna walk into a freakin' demon prison without us.'

'Fair enough,' Harry conceded with a nod. 'I suppose you are the experts.'

'Damn straight we are,' Dean muttered, he took the last swig of beer, set it on the counter, and walked out. 'I'm gonna go work on the car.'

'You should sleep instead,' Sam suggested, but Dean was already too far away to hear. 'We all should.' Harry wasn't tired, but he agreed with Sam.

'Are he and the angel... close?' Harry asked.

'Well, they do share a more "profound" bond,' Sam muttered. Did he sound slightly bitter? Harry couldn't tell, and before he could question him further, Sam had disappeared upstairs. Then it was just him and Bobby again.

'You want a beer?' the old man asked. Harry shrugged. Might as well get used to the swill.

XXX

_England, at the home of a prominent wizard politician._

'Young Mr. Malfoy, please come in,' old Mr. Tubs invited with a sweep of his arm to indicate his large office. The walls were covered in dark wood, except for the one glorious portrait of the wizard himself above the desk. Mr. Tubs' real name was Mr. Chamberlain (no relation to the muggle family), but he insisted people used the more affectionate nickname. He was currently wearing a gold-brown robe with dark-brown brocade, along with a white shirt that had clearly seen better days. His hair was white, though only two patches were left above each ear. His face was, in a word, ugly, and well-oiled, though his portrait did not reflect that. 

Draco entered, casting the barest of glances across the opulent room. It was decorated in last century in terms of wizarding styles, and there were quite a few awful colour clashes. Draco decided it was best not to stare directly at anything. He was resplendent in royal blue robes with a cream-colored shirt. It always paid to dazzle your peers.

He sat down as soon as Mr. Tubs offered one of the red wing-back chairs that stood in front of his awful, lion-clawed desk. The old wizard hobbled around the huge thing, dropping down with a creak and a sigh into his own, even larger, chair of green leather. On the desk, only slightly off center, stood a statue of a lion, so large it was distracting. It reared up on its hind legs, and seemed far too animated for the room.

'I hope all is well with your father, I heard the news...' Mr. Tubs began.

'Yes, he is absolutely fine,' Draco informed him with a smile. 'He simply felt the need for an extended vacation.'

'And he's left it all for you to run...?'

'I assure you I am well capable. Like father, like son, we always say.'

Mr. Tubs gave a cough and dug into his pocket for a frilly handkerchief. He coughed once into it, and then wiped his nose. Draco tried not to sneer in distaste.

'I understand you are heading off to the continent in a few days time,' Draco commented.

'Yes, quite right, quite right,' Mr. Tubs muttered. 'It's a nasty business, all of it. A time for unity of all wizarding kind.'

'Yes, solidarity,' Draco murmured. He considered his options quietly while Mr. Tubs called a house-elf and ordered some tea. 'You are in favor of the renewal of the non-involvement agreement, I take it?'

'It's not an agreement!' Mr. Tubs exclaimed, banging a fist on his desk, though he made little sound. 'It's a way of life, not to be spoiled.' He raised a finger at Draco, who raised an eyebrow in return. 'Mark my words, young Malfoy, this business must be settled and it must be settled soon if we are to rebuild.'

'Yes, absolutely,' Draco agreed. 'And part of that rebuilding is a return to normal life, don't you agree?'

'Well, yes, quite right, quite right.' The excitement was gone from Mr. Tubs as quickly as it had appeared. He seemed very content that Draco agreed with him, and not at all surprised. He was one of those people who argued loudly simply for the sake of appearing passionate, even though all their views were so conservative as to be uninteresting to everyone else.

'And I believe,' Draco added, 'that congratulations are in order.' At Mr. Tubs' blank look Draco elaborated. 'Your son is about to marry, is he not?'

'Mr. Malfoy,' Mr. Tubs said, eyes widening in surprise, 'you truly are your father's son.'

'Please, you flatter me.' Draco smiled.

'I had not even told my own associates. It's not been finalized, but she is from a very important family. French, which I'm sure you'll have no objection to.'

'Not at all, and that's why it pains me so to warn you.'

'Warn me?'

'There is information that might cause the girl's family to reconsider.' Mr. Tubs frowned heavily in confusion. 'In fact,' Draco told him, leaning forward as he extracted a roll of parchment from his inner pocket and tossing it on the desk, 'it might do more than just that.'

Mr. Tubs stared at the roll of parchment, eyes clouded and his face lined so heavily Draco could have mistaken him for a goblin. He frowned and slowly folded his hands across his large chest. He made no move to unroll the parchment.

'You truly are you father's son,' he muttered.

'Again, you flatter me,' Draco said, but he was no longer smiling. He rose abruptly. 'In fact I'm sure I lack a great deal of my father's patience when it comes to these types of meetings.' He fixed the old wizard with a heavy stare. 'If you vote at the Confederation without my direct instructions, then this goes public.' He indicated the parchment. 'Other than that you can do whatever you want to try, but it won't change that fact.'

'I'm sure I don't know what you're referring to.'

'Don't insult me,' Draco warned him. 'I know you've had your sights on the Black Estate, not to mention your pathetic attempts to work against my influence. When the Wizengamot rules on Potter's estates, the Black portion will come to Malfoy, do not doubt it.'

'Our family-'

'Your family,' Draco cut him off, 'exists solely on my good will at the moment.' Mr. Tubs swallowed as he truly realized the implications of what Draco possessed. He looked away. 'And since our families are so closely linked, you won't mind writing a few letters of introduction to your friends on the Confederation. All of them.' Mr. Tubs looked more upset at the enormity of the task than what it could mean for Draco's influence. He nodded reluctantly.

'Then I bid you good day, Mr. Chamberlain.' Draco moved to leave, when Mr. Tubs' called out.

'How did you find out?'

'We've always known,' Draco told him dismissively. 'But information such as that isn't used on just any occasion.' He left Mr. Tubs half-impressed, half-incredulous. He stalked to the Floo and arrived back home with the minimal of fuss.

The house seemed huge and empty, but there was more activity here than there had been in a long time. Wizards and witches came and went with hand-delivered notes. Snape was constantly brewing half a dozen things in the dungeon, and Draco never seemed to sit still.

Wasn't it the best, or worst, of ironies that when Draco finally had to take up the tradition of Malfoy scheming, he did it all for a cause that his father was so fervently against?

And wasn't it also fitting that he should hate every moment of it? For all his preparations, from before he could remember, he somehow found himself yearning not only for the cold dungeons, but for No Man's Land.

The vast, ungovernable place had left an impression on the young Malfoy. Whenever he thought about it, he felt this swelling in his chest, as if the size and power of that land could not be contained within him.

Last night he had had a dream. He had seen all of No Man's Land desolated by one single battle, fought between three powers. The destruction had been complete, almost beautiful, and terrifying. He had woken in a cold sweat. He would never get the image out of his head.

Perhaps the people had left a few impressions as well, though Draco would deny that if asked.

XXX

_America, Bobby Singer's Salvage Yard._

Harry had gone out after Dean. It seemed like something should be said between them. He liked these hunters, stubborn though they were. Sam was really nice, but Harry felt uncomfortable with knowing one brother better than the other. He followed the sounds of metal clinks and grunts around the house and through the main part of the yard. He found Dean bent over the Impala's engine in what appeared to be a garage Mr. Weasley would envy. It had no doors, but it was enough to keep the rain off Dean's baby.

Dean glanced over his shoulder as Harry approached, but went straight back to whatever he was doing.

'You might not want to be out here,' he said, causing Harry to frown.

'What's that suppose to mean?' he asked, a little defensively. Dean gestured with his free elbow and Harry looked over to see Castiel standing awkwardly in the corner. He was looking at his feet, but glanced up quickly when Harry looked at him. Harry wasn't sure he would ever be able to interpret angel body-language. Castiel seemed so different from the other angel Harry had met. He seemed almost apologetic in his stance, not that that mattered.

Harry turned to go.

'Wait,' Castiel said, taking a few steps forward. Harry sighed and turned back. Dean stepped away from the Impala, putting away his tools on the bench that ran along the wall. He kept sending half-interested glances over his shoulder at the pair as he busied himself.

'What?' Harry asked when the silence became awkward. That's what it was, Harry realized. Awkwardness. The angel honestly didn't know what to do. Harry would have laughed if he didn't feel like throwing up. Castiel nodded slightly, as if accepting Harry's sharp tone.

'I wish to apologize,' he said slowly, finally looking Harry in the eye. 'Sincerely.'

'You already told me you were sorry,' Harry reminded him. Castiel nodded at this.

'I know what I did was-'

'I don't really care what you think you know,' Harry cut him off. 'I'm bloody sick of people thinking they know anything. So if you think you can give me puppy dog eyes and I'll just brush it off, you can shove it.'

'You have gotten more volatile since last we spoke,' Castiel observed. 'That is my fault.'

'Actually, it's the destruction of the world looming over all our heads,' Harry snapped, but he was lying. Time had only made his feelings on the incident worsen, as he had slowly gone through all the things Castiel might have seen, and as his nightmares resurfaced, and mixed old mental penetrations with the new.

The garage fell silent at Harry's outburst. Dean had stopped pretending to put away tools and was leaning against the bench, watching the pair with arms folded across his chest. Harry looked off into the distance, regretting deeply that he had gone outside. He sighed, calming himself. His temper would ruin everything if he didn't keep it in check.

'I'll help save the world with you,' he said quietly. 'And I'll even grant you that angels aren't evil creatures like demons, but that's it.'

'Can you then appreciate what it takes for me to admit that you are not an abomination?' Castiel returned, causing Harry to get whiplash as he spun to stare at him. To his surprise, the angel was perfectly serious. His anger was about to burst forth when Dean stepped forward - not enough to physically cut them off, but enough to show he would do so if needed.

'Why don't we all agree we're on the same team?' he said, placating. Harry gave a shrug in response, and Dean seemed to accept that as an answer. 'Okay then, I've filled Cas in on Crowley. He knew about the souls.' Dean looked to Cas to continue, and Harry couldn't help but be interested.

'Yes, I believe there might be a faction in heaven strengthening itself on human souls.'

'Do you know who has the Spear of Destiny and the other artifacts? I'd bet Merlin's hat they're the same group,' Harry said.

'I have my suspicions, but he is proving difficult to locate,' Castiel admitted.

'So while Cas plays hide and seek with his douchebag brothers,' Dean supplied, 'we've got a new case.'

'What kind?'

'Cas thinks there's something big going down in a small about two days drive south of here.'

'Someone wants us there,' Harry argued, shaking his head. 'Two big cases this close? It's the same thing over again.'

'And like you agreed, we still have to check it out, right?'

'Yes, of course, but I don't like traps,' Harry explained.

'Sometimes you have to set off a few traps to figure out who's behind them,' Dean pointed out in his no-nonsense way, and Harry almost smiled. These hunters were definitely Gryffindors through and through. His smile died before it could appear, however, when he caught Castiel's eye. The angel was giving him that awkward, all-knowing look Harry was quickly beginning to despise. He tried not to let his discomfort show, but it was obvious from the way Castiel sighed and disappeared abruptly that it hadn't worked. Dean gave him a look.

'He really did want to apologize,' he said.

'I don't care,' Harry said stubbornly. 'I appreciate that he's your friend, but he's not- we can never-' Harry sighed in frustration at his lack of eloquence. 'We're opposites. We come from two different worlds and from our viewpoint, his kind has been corrupting our world for centuries.'

'You know opposites attract.' Harry didn't even know how to respond to that, so he just stared, and from Dean's quick return to the Impala's engine, he didn't think he needed to.

'Get some sleep,' Dean suggested, clearing his throat awkwardly. 'We're heading out first thing.'

XXX

_England, The Ministry of Magic._

Draco slipped out of the office, glancing up and down the long corridor and noting with satisfaction that no one would see him leave. He smirked to himself at how easy these ministry officials were to manipulate. The big international meeting was just a few days off. It was all meaningless of course, as every country would do whatever they pleased, but wizards, for some reason, like to have everything official. They "officially" wanted nothing to do with angels and demons, so they had to "officially" meet and tell each other just this.

It was Draco's job to make the whole world see what a load of utter crap this was, and so far he was actually doing a good job.

It was early and Draco didn't fancy going back to Malfoy Manor to have Snape snap at him that he shouldn't be happy over a tiny victory when there was so much left to do. He wandered down to the Atrium and took the tourist route out, stepping out onto the streets of London.

He was just around the corner when he felt the barest whisper of foreign magic lick at the edges of his robes. He did not slow his pace, but tried to catch a glimpse of what could be following him in the automobile windows he passed. The muggle world was very reflective.

Despite his casual walk, Draco's heart was pounding a mile a minute. He couldn't tell if it was demon or angel magic, but either way it wasn't good. How long had he been followed? Why? Unconsciously, he picked up his pace, hurrying round the corner, and straight into an angel.

Draco reared back in surprise, one hand shooting out to grab the stone wall of the building, the other going for his wand. The angel reached out quicker, however, and pressed two fingers to Draco's forehead.

The building he was holding on to disappeared. Or rather, he disappeared- and stumbled to the side even as he frantically pointed his wand at the angel. He looked around in alarm. He was in the middle of a large field. There were trees all around the edges it, giving him a limited view. He could be anywhere in the world.

'You,' he growled, keeping his concentration on both the angel and his surroundings. He couldn't know if it was an ambush or not.

'Is that any way to greet an old friend?' the angel asked sarcastically.

'You lied to Potter about me!' Draco accused. He had half a mind to just curse the angel right then and there.

'What on earth are you talking about?' the angel had the audacity to look surprised.

'Don't play coy,' Draco snapped. 'You told him I kept the locket and diadem for myself, and that you had to steal them from me!'

'Right, that part. You've been speaking a lot to Potter, I take it? Do you by any chance know where he is at this moment?' Draco had heard enough.

'Avada Kedavra!' he hissed, but the angel was too quick, and Draco's eyes had betrayed his intention. Draco spun around when the angel disappeared, knowing it could reappear at any point. He pointed his wand wildly in different directions, feeling cornered even out in the open.

There was no one, just acres of barley in every direction. The sun was about to go down, casting a beautiful red light across the almost cloudless sky. Draco had no patience to mark its beauty.

He tried to calm his breathing, to think logically. The moment he did so, it was like a signal to attack. An arm came out of nowhere and grabbed his wand-arm, twisting it round and causing him to cry out in pain. There was another press of fingers and the world became much darker, and colder. His wand was ripped from him as he was pushed away hard, sending him into a concrete room. He hit his shoulder badly against the wall and groaned.

He heard the slow pull of metal against the floor and forced himself to turn. The angel was smirking at him from behind bars. He was in a prison of some sort. Behind the angel he could only see another concrete wall. There were no windows, and the cell was barely enough for him to lay down in, with a toilet in the corner. That depressed him more than anything, as it meant the angel might be intending to keep him for some time.

'Now I could search you, or you could just give me anything of interest in your pockets,' the angel told him. Draco glared in response. 'My search will be very... thorough.' Draco fished out the coin from his pocket. He ground his teeth as he handed it over. The angel studied it with much interest.

'Let me guess, this is not used to buy those cute outfits you enjoy,' he said. 'What does it do?'

'Fuck off,' Draco enunciated clearly.

'Don't tempt me,' the angel whispered, eyes glinting. Draco's glare did not waver, though his heart gave a painful jolt at the threat. 'Tell me where Potter is.'

'I don't know,' Draco said honestly.

'You do, or you know how to find him.'

'Why do you care?'

'Oh, I have no interest in Potter, not just yet.'

'The muggles,' Draco realized, then he frowned. 'You didn't kidnap me just for this.'

'No, you were becoming a nuisance. You father is very disappointed.'

'What do you know about my father?' Draco demanded, voice rising.

'I know right now he's the only wizard worth saving.' The angel flipped the coin up in the air and caught it. 'I'll see you later, darling.' He was about to go, when Draco called out to him.

'What's your name?' The angel huffed a small laugh, giving Draco an amused look, half mocking, half fake fondness.

'Right now, I am your God, so pray I'll be a benevolent one.' Draco heard the angel's steps, and counted them. Only three to the end of the hall, then a heavy door. He didn't know if he was the first cell in a long line, or if the room held only his.

Sliding down the wall, he gripped his hurt shoulder, and felt a fear he hadn't felt since standing in the presence of a demon, but overriding that fear was a deep anger, slowly building. The only problem was, what could he do with it?


	12. May Angels Sing Thee To Thy Rest

'What do you want! Tell me! Please,' Draco whimpered. The knife made a red line as it was drawn across Draco's bare chest. His robe hung in rags from his shoulders, his hands were bound above his head, holding him up just high enough to put most of his weight on his arms while his toes scratched desperately for purchase on the cold concrete floor.

'Such a pretty little wizard,' the demon sneered, leaning in to sniff at Draco's neck. The young wizard retaliated by biting at the demon's cheek. He reared back and pressed the knife to Draco's cheek, cutting slowly as he spoke. 'Play nice,' he warned. Draco grit his teeth against the pain.

'What do you want?' he asked again.

'Me? I don't need much in the world,' the demon explained causally, walking to a table with various tools of torture. 'Never was the ambitious type, not like that Crowley. For me, it's all about doing a good job.'

Draco's breathing sped up as the demon examined a particularly terrifying instrument.

'But- you must want something,' he stuttered.

'I think Balthasar said something about the coin,' the demon mused, utterly engrossed in the difficult choice he had to make.

'I'll show him,' Draco said at once. 'I'll show him how to work it, please.' The demon turned back to him, studying him. In his hand was a disemboweling tool.

'There is one thing,' he said, coming forward. He held the blade against Draco's taut stomach. He leaned in, confident Draco would not try to bite him this time. 'Your soul.'

'You think I'll let you torture me in hell instead of right here?' Draco asked incredulously.

'I think that despite everything you're human. You think mostly about the present,' the demon whispered. 'But your soul isn't going to hell. We've got something much more special planned for you. So, it's up to you to end this.' He pressed the very sharp tip of the knife into Draco's side, just shy of cutting through the skin.

'No,' Draco gasped, closing his eyes. 'Just kill me.'

'Oh, I'm afraid that's not on the table,' the demon smirked. 'I don't need you to be in hell to make this last for eternity.'

Draco screamed.

XXX

'So, what's the case?' Sam asked from the passenger seat. They were close to the town in question and Sam thought it was time to go through the case. He wasn't all too keen on going on a wild goose chase again, but if it meant saving people then that was good enough. As long as it wasn't a trap.

'Check the papers,' Dean said, picking up the top sheet of several local newspaper lying between them and tossing it on Sam's lap. Sam scanned the front articles while Harry read over his shoulder. 

'Almost Buried Alive,' he read. 'Ten-year-old Daniel Hitchens woke up during his funeral- Jesus,' Sam swore.

'Check the others,' Dean told him.

'Local man digs his way out of his own fresh grave,' Sam read from the next newspaper. He picked up another. 'Third person misdiagnosed- how can you be misdiagnosed with death?'

'Look at the dates,' Harry pointed out. 'Three people came back over three days.'

'And then?' Dean asked.

'Then nothing,' Sam murmured as he scanned the rest, all from the week following the resurrected. 'In fact, there's nothing remotely interesting. It's all flower shows and biggest vegetable contests.'

'Almost as if they don't want to draw attention to themselves,' Dean observed.

'You think the whole town is in on it?' Sam asked, sounding sceptical.

'I don't know, but we gotta tread carefully.'

'They won't like people snooping around,' Harry commented. 'We should check out the cemetery first, see if any other graves have been disturbed.'

'My thoughts exactly,' Dean agreed.

The town was a small, isolated area. The kind of place where everybody knows everybody and there's only one road in or out. The kind that's perfect for a trap. Sam knew it was old too, though all the houses looked pristine, with gardens to match. The sun was bright, but they didn't see anyone out and about as they drove to the cemetery. It lay behind the church, stretching towards a small brook that ran around the town and then cut through a part of it as it backtracked on itself.

As they passed through the gate, Harry stopped short.

'Wait,' he called out, making the Winchesters turn. Harry took out his wand and waved it about. Dean cast a glance around them to check if anyone had seen the odd display. 'Magic,' Harry pronounced. 'Foreign magic. I can't get inside.'

'What'd you mean, you can't get in?' Dean asked.

'There's a warding spell here,' Harry explained. 'I could break it, but not without causing a good deal of noise and bright colours.'

'Someone doesn't want you here,' Sam concluded. He gazed into the cemetery. The headstones were all in neat little rows, but it didn't look very peaceful. Several graves had been recently disturbed. He could count five from where he was standing.

'Look for a symbol,' Harry suggested. 'Maybe on a headstone, or on the church. You'll need to destroy it.'

'Get the spray can from the car,' Dean said. Harry did as directed and the Winchesters spread out to find the warding symbol. The hunters weren't exactly newbies when it came to finding these sorts of things. Sam finally found it behind the caretaker's shed, hidden behind a wheelbarrow that was leaning against the wall.

'That's enochian,' Dean observed, voice grim.

'Yeah,' Sam replied. He was pretty sure it was done in blood. Dean sprayed over part of it. When they came round the shed, Harry was already crouching by one of the disturbed graves. They made their way over to him.

Harry had his hand flat on the disturbed earth. He looked worried.

'What is it?' Sam asked, crouching opposite him.

'I'm not sure,' Harry said. 'There's magic here.'

'Angelic?'

'I- I can't tell the difference between angelic and demonic, but this isn't either, it's… my kind, I'm almost sure, but I can't tell if it's from a charm, a potion or what, or how old.'

'So, a wizard brought these people back?' Dean asked. 'You have the power to do that?'

'No-… well, there is a way, but it can't be that,' Harry rose abruptly. 'We should see the people who came out of these graves.' Sam exchanged a glance with his brother, who he could tell was thinking the same thing: was Harry not telling them something?

They located the address of the young boy who had been reported in the paper. They stopped to check into the single hotel in town, a cute little building that was probably weeks from closing judging by the number of rooms available. They changed into suits and headed back out. The receptionist seemed suspicious, but didn't do anything to stop or question them.

The street was eerily quiet for such a bright summer day. The house they pulled up to was hidden behind a high wall of thick bushes. The gate was a beautiful iron monstrosity, out of place in the otherwise humble neighborhood. They parked by the curb and found the gate open.

As Harry passed through it, he seemed to hesitate for half a second. Sam noticed and looked at him.

'You okay?'

'Yeah- no, I think someone just registered by presence. We should leave, now.'

'We can't just leave,' Dean argued. 'You wanna throw away the whole case?' Harry looked up at the house, taking out his wand.

'There was an enochian symbol at the cemetery,' Sam pointed out. 'But you're feeling wizard magic, how does any of this make sense?'

'I don't know,' Harry said, 'but I guess we have to find out.'

XXX

'Come on, concentrate,' Draco whispered to himself. The demon had been gone for several minutes. Draco's chest was riddled with cuts, some healed, some left to bleed. He knew he wouldn't be allowed to bleed out, but the fear was there nevertheless.

He focused all his attention on the table where the demon kept his tools. Draco's wand lay beside a long jagged knife. The demon had more than once said he was going to break it, but not yet, not until he had broken Draco.

The young wizard focused all his power on the chains around his wrists. There wasn't any binding magic on them, so all Draco needed was the strength to use some wandless magic.

There was a clink of metal and Draco fell heavily to the floor, groaning at the hard impact. He crawled towards the table, grabbing the edge to help pull himself up. He was just about to reach for his wand when it flew right off the table.

It hit the opposite wall with the softest of sounds, as it is was just any old stick and not the key to Draco's salvation. He felt all hope leave him, and turned slowly, too sore to move quicker, leaning heavily on the table. The demon smirked from the doorway. Draco's right hand reached out and took hold of the first thing it reached, the jagged knife.

The demon came forward and Draco brandished the knife with a shaking hand. He tried to keep his breathing steady, but it was useless. The demon stopped right in front of the knife's point, gazing at Draco with unmistakable mocking pity. Slowly, he took the knife from Draco's unresisting hand, turning it over as if to admire it. Draco watched helplessly, feeling the will to fight almost entirely gone.

The demon plunged the knife into Draco's chest.

Draco gasped, but stopped short halfway, choking into a bloody cough instead. The demon stepped away, letting go of the knife. Draco fell to the side, taking a few tools with him in his fall. They made clanking noises as they fell around him, as if it was raining metal.

The blood seeped out of him so fast Draco was soaked in it. His magic was the only thing still keeping him alive. He manage to turn his head as he heard someone approach. It was the angel, looking down on him with a smile.

His magic could not keep up the fight long, however, and Draco felt it drain out of him like the blood, only it scared him much more than anything ever had, and it left him so very, very cold.

He closed his eyes.

XXX

'Can I help you?' the nice woman asked. She was all smiles. Dean showed off his fake disease control badge. The woman blinked.

'We're investigating the recent good luck of the recently deceased in town,' Dean explained with a strained smile. 'Nothing to be worried about. We just want to make sure there's nothing in the water to make the doctors think you're dying.'

'Of course, come right in.' She turned and walked into the house, leaving three perplexed men.

'That was easy,' Sam muttered as they followed her. They found her in a spacious living room. On the huge, white couch sat a young boy. He looked pale, and afraid. The woman went around the back of the couch to stand behind the boy, leaning over to ruffle his hair.

'We've so lucky,' she cooed. The boy was stiff and unresponsive, staring at his knees. Had it been another situation, Sam might have thought the boy was displaying zombie-tendencies. As it was, he was more worried about the mother. 'Our little boy came back to us.'

'Might I examine him?' Harry asked. 'I'm a doctor.' The woman gave him a long stare, always smiling.

'Of course.' 

Harry stepped forward and kneeled in front of the boy. He put a hand to his forehead, and Sam was pretty sure Harry wasn't checking the boy's temperature.

'Help me,' the boy suddenly whispered. The room went still, then the woman gave a shrill laugh.

'He's still a little traumatized, I'm afraid,' she explained.

'Yeah, I'm sure,' Dean said uncomfortably. Sam noted Harry had his wand out. He reached for his gun.

Suddenly, the woman leaned over and yanked the small boy out of his seat, holding him to her chest as she backed away. Harry rose immediately, wand aimed at her head. Sam and Dean followed suit with their guns, but none of them could risk it. The boy screamed.

'Shhh,' she whispered. She stared at them mockingly. 'Boys!' she called. Three burly men emerged from the dining room beyond. Sam would bet his gun they were demons, and the quick flashes of black eyes confirmed it. They looked like bikers, only not as friendly.

Sam had the demon-killing knife tucked in his belt, but they only had regular guns. He sneaked a glance at the fireplace and noted the iron poker.

'Remember, take Potter alive. The Winchesters you can rough up a bit,' she smirked. The boy was sobbing in her arms. She backed away with him as the male demons stepped forward. There was a pause as they all decided who would make the first move.

'Stupefy!' Harry yelled, throwing a flash of red at one of the demons. He went down like a sack of potatoes, but wouldn't stay there for long. The moment the female demon disappeared from their sight, the Winchesters opened fire.

The shots had little effect. 'I'm going after the boy!' Harry yelled and disapparated, leaving the Winchesters with two demons, which would turn into three at any moment. They stopped firing as they considered their options. The demons grinned, looking like a pair of manic twins.

One demon flung out his arm and sent Dean flying into the wall. He wasn't powerful enough to hold him there, it seemed, for Dean landed with a thud by the fireplace. The demon advanced on him. Sam was about to help out, but he had his own demon to deal with.

The meat-suit the demon was wearing was almost as tall as Sam, though much fatter. As he advanced Sam dropped his gun and pulled out the knife instead, thinking he at least had a chance with the knife. Before he could use it, however, the demon had picked up a nice mahogany side-table and flung it at him.

Sam ducked and rolled out of the way, but had to duck again as a chair came flying. 'Jesus,' he muttered. He was now in the hallway, backing further down towards the front door, and held the knife ready as the huge hulk of a demon advanced.

'I'm going to rough you up good,' he drawled like some cliché redneck. Sam couldn't keep the look of incredulity on his face. The demon suddenly ripped a portrait off the wall and flung it at Sam, who this time got the full force of it, though he managed to shield his face from the shattering glass. Apparently, this demon really liked throwing things.

Before he could get his bearings, he felt the tubby hands grab him and hoist him up by the collar. He gasped for breath as the tie cut into his throat. He brought the knife up and stabbed desperately at the demon's arm.

The demon screamed when he realized the cut burned him and threw Sam into the wall with enough force to bring down the rest of the paintings. Sam had been prepared for that sort of reaction and forced himself to push himself up and plow straight into the demon with all his strength, using his shoulder as a battering ram at the demon's stomach.

They landed in a heap on the floor and Sam stabbed wildly at the huge lug, hoping he would manage to penetrate enough to kill it. He managed two stabs to the gut before the demon grabbed Sam's hand. He was growling like an animal. The wounds in his gut were sizzling, but they weren't enough.

Sam, still a little dizzy from the impact, used his free hand to punch the demon in the jaw. It didn't do much, unfortunately.

'I'm gonna kill you now,' the demon growled. Sam started an exorcism. The demon let go of the knife in a blind rage and grabbed Sam's throat with both hands. Sam almost blacked out immediately, but he managed to stab at the demon's soft throat. Finally, the demonic presence sizzled and died.

'Sam!' Dean sounded on the verge of unconsciousness. Sam forced himself to get up and stumble into the living room. He stopped short at the door.

The man from the trial, Mr. Poole, had just appeared by the dining room door. The living room was completely destroyed, with the couch halfway through the windows. How had Sam not heard that? Dean was pinned to the wall by the demon that had woken up from the stunner. The other demon was focused on Poole.

'Stupefy!' Poole yelled, his voice a high squeal of fear. The stunner hit the demon, and he shook his head like a dog as if he was confused for a moment, or someone had hit him on the head.

'That hurt,' he muttered. He was clearly the strongest of the three. 'I know what'll kill you, little wizard.' The demon reached out a hand and the gun Sam had dropped flew to him. He aimed it at Poole and fired.

Poole disappeared with a pop, but Sam couldn't tell if he'd managed to get away before being hit. The events had seemed simultaneous.

Using the demon's distraction, Sam ran forward and stabbed the demon right in the back. It howled and collapsed. The other demon let go of Dean by throwing him into a wall and faced Sam with a defensive stance. He shot a wary look at the knife.

'Come on,' Sam urged mockingly, trying to rile it up. Dean pushed himself up and reached for the poker, swinging it like a baseball bat at the back of the demon's head. The impact sent the demon flying forward. Sam lunged and caught it with the knife right in the heart. He let go once he was sure it was dead.

Dean's face was a mess. He collapsed back on the floor, breathing a heavy sigh of a relief, which Sam echoed.

'You okay?' Sam asked.

'Yeah,' Dean breathed, 'just roughed up.' Sam helped him up and he brushed off some glass from Sam's suit.

They both realized how quiet it was at the exact same time, and ran through the dining room, ending up in a spacious kitchen.

The boy was in the corner with his knees drawn close to his chest, eyes staring right at his dead mother. She didn't appear to have a scratch on her, but her eyes were empty. She had a bloody knife in her hand.

Beside her lay Harry, blood staining the tiled floor around him. He was gasping for air as he tried to reach for his wand.

The hunters both rushed to him, turning him over slowly to assess the damage. Sam could see straight away that it was bad.

'My wand,' Harry gasped. Sam put the wand in his hand and he held it close to his chest. Sam realized he didn't intend to use it, he just wanted it near. He guessed wands were a personal thing. 'Get me back to the hotel room,' he said.

'I'll take him,' Sam said, easily lifting the small man bridal style, trying not to jostle him too much.

'What about the kid?' Dean asked.

'The police are on their way, there's nothing we can do,' Sam said, throwing a glance at the kid. He didn't bother to wait, but he knew Dean spoke to him quietly for a moment. They left the scene, hurrying to the car. Harry pointed his wand at the Impala before Sam reached it, muttering a spell.

'It'll keep the police from following us,' he whispered. Sam put him in the backseat as gently as he could. Dean had found a shirt in the back and gave it to Harry.

'Keep pressure on the wound,' he said. Harry nodded. He was pale and shaking. Sam was worried and looked at Dean.

'You need the hospital,' Dean said.

'No, just get me back to the hotel,' Harry ordered. Reluctantly, they did as asked.

Dean distracted the receptionist while Sam carried Harry upstairs, placing him as gently as he could on the bed. Harry was deathly pale and shaking.

'What do you need?' Sam asked, desperate to find something that could help. 'One of your potions?'

'I think… it might be too late. They're not potent enough for this kind of damage, and I'm not strong enough to cast a healing spell on myself.'

'What are you saying?' Sam asked just as Dean stepped quietly into the room. Sam was seated on the bed next to Harry's. He looked up briefly and he knew Dean could read the situation on his face. Dean approached, standing on Harry's opposite side.

'Let me look at the wound,' Sam argued. 'I could sew it up, and you'll be fine.'

'Let us take you to a hospital,' Dean cut in. Harry took in a deep, ragged breath. The front of his t-shirt was completely soaked in blood.

'They'll want to put me under, use muggle medicine. The moment they do that, I can't control my magic, which is the only thing keeping me alive right now. I've lost too much blood for you to bother to sew me up…' He took another breath. 'Just, let me-' He raised the hand that held his wand, and it looked like he was attempting to point it at himself, but then he collapsed, shaking his head.

Dean's phone rang. He closed his eyes briefly in frustration, but his eyes widened when he saw the called ID. He answered. 'Cas? Yeah, you need to get here right now.' He gave the angel the address and just a second later Castiel arrived on the flutter of wings by the foot of the bed. He took one look at the scene and frowned.

'What happened?'

'You need to heal him,' Dean said, gesturing to Harry. Sam had taken over the task of putting pressure on the wound, but Harry had yet to remove his hand so Sam could inspect it. Their hands were completely red.

'I can't,' Castiel said, staring at the wizard, who slowly directly his gaze at the angel.

'You can try!' Dean yelled, starting to look seriously worried.

'His magic will reject mine,' Castiel explained.

'Please,' Sam said, but he was looking at Harry. 'Isn't there something we can do?' He wanted to scream and punch something. He refused to believe Harry had gone through so much - of which Sam only knew a fraction of - only to die at the hands of a second-class demon sent to play with a small town. This was not going to happen. Harry didn't look scared, however. Sam didn't know what kind of beliefs wizards had about death. He wished he knew, so he could offer some comfort.

Castiel stepped closer, pushing Dean out of the way as he sat next to Harry on the bed. He put a hand over Sam and Harry's.

'If you let me in,' Castiel said seriously, 'I may be able to heal your body.' Harry opened his mouth to speak, but blood came out instead. He gasped, gargling blood. Sam swore, feeling helpless. Dean closed his eyes, leaning against the wall, looking lost.

'Yes,' Harry coughed, he raised his wand, but without pointing it. Sam realised he was trying to hand it to him, and took it, reluctantly letting go of Harry's other hand. It felt strange: to touch something that felt utterly ordinary, but that he knew to be so powerful and significant to Harry. He sat back as Castiel leaned over, pressing one hand to the wound, the other to Harry's forehead.

Harry closed his eyes, trying to keep his breathing calm, but it was difficult with so much blood everywhere. He felt as if he were drowning. Castiel's hand felt warm on his forehead. He felt Castiel's other hand remove his own from the wound and felt the blood gushing without pressure on it. He sighed and let go. If Castiel did save him, there was nothing more he could do, and if the angel failed, then he might as well just let go.

He should feel angry at having made such a stupid mistake. Even with all his power, a bitch demon had gotten him in the end on a lucky shot. 

He felt the foreign presence of magic, and his every instinct told him to fight it, especially when he recognised Castiel's magic.

'Let me in,' Castiel implored. He sounded sincere, and apologetic. Harry realised healing him wasn't about saying sorry, however. He wasn't really sure why Castiel was doing it.

He let go, and his body had nothing to keep it alive anymore. Darkness overtook him, but only for a moment. Light pierced through him, and he felt his body knitting itself together. As it did so, his magic reawakened, but he fought to keep it under control so Castiel could work unhindered. He felt the angelic power flowing into him, foreign, yet oddly comforting and warm. The light did not seem hostile as it had the last time.

Finally, he was healed. Castiel's presence removed itself, falling away gracefully. Harry knew one thing: he had forgiven Castiel, a little bit at least.

He opened his eyes, finding the ceiling of the room clear and in focus. He sat up slowly - Sam was there at once to help him and he gave him a smile of thanks. Castiel was sprawled in a chair across the room. Dean was hovering close, unsure what was wrong. Castiel looked utterly drained.

'Thank you,' Harry managed.

'You're welcome,' Castiel replied. Harry's wand was suddenly in front of his face and he took it gratefully from Sam, glad to have it back.

There was a knock on the door. All four occupants of the room looked at each other. Dean took out his gun and approached the door cautiously.

'Please, open up,' a voice wailed. Dean stopped short and glanced back.

'Isn't that the wizard guy?' he asked. Sam nodded. Dean opened the door, gun ready. Mr. Poole was leaning heavily against the door frame, one hand holding his stomach. He was bleeding and fell forward the moment the door was open enough. Dean caught him, dragging him over to the bed. Harry sat up properly, waving his wand over him.

'He's been shot,' Harry said. 'I don't think I can heal him in my current state,' he said grimly.

'I did not come for healing,' Mr. Poole said, eyes fluttering open. 'I came to warn you.'

'Why?' Harry asked.

'Lucius,' Mr. Poole gasped. 'Lucius Malfoy is working with an angel.'

'What?' Harry asked. Castiel rose slowly and came to stand by the foot of the bed. Sam could tell my one glance at him that he was in no condition to heal Mr. Poole either.

'He thinks he's so clever,' Mr. Poole laughed humourlessly. 'He promised the angel he would take you out, and leave the Winchesters. He plans to kill you all, of course.'

'Of course,' Harry muttered. 'And what did the angel promise?'

'To keep the non-involvement agreement, but even a fool can see he has no plans for that. The apocalypse won't destroy the rest of the world, it will destroy _all_ of it.' Mr. Poole took a long pause as he gathered the last remnants of his strength. 'And the stone,' he gasped.

'Where is Lucius?' Harry asked. Sam frowned at the mention of the stone.

'I left him,' Mr. Poole confessed. 'When I realised his true intent. He cares not about the safety of our world, but only… only for revenge. He is blinded by it.'

'I care for the safety of our world too,' Harry promised him seriously. Mr. Poole nodded.

'I know, Mr. Potter, I know… I should have stayed on the French Riviera.' He started coughing. Harry cleared his throat with a spell. Mr. Poole did not thank him, but merely closed his eyes in contentment and let out a long, last breath before going still. Sam felt sad, despite the man's actions during his trial. Wizards, he was coming to realise, were just like regular people: some brave, some not, some misguided, and some filled with malice.

Harry reached over and took the man's wand out of his pocket, folding the arms across his chest.

'In these times we can't afford to bury a wand,' Harry said sadly, rising and going over to his backpack that lay on the desk. He put the wand away.

'What stone was he talking about?' Castiel asked. Harry looked at him, clearly uncomfortable.

'The Resurrection Stone,' he said. 'Lucius is working with the same angel that helped us during the war.'

'The Resurrection Stone…' Castiel mused aloud. 'This is the legendary stone that brings back the dead?'

Sam and Dean exchanged an alarmed glance.

'Is that what's been going on?' Dean asked Harry.

'I don't know, yes, maybe. It's wizard magic, but wrought on muggles, and he's somehow brought their bodies back. The Stone can only bring back a phantom of the dead…' Harry had a faraway look in his eyes. Sam was sure he was looking at a sad memory.

'If he has somehow bent this Stone to his will, he is planning something,' Castiel said. 'This town is just a taste, a test.'

'Yes,' Harry agreed. He looked to Castiel, eyes dark. 'Do you know the name of the angel who is doing all this?'

'I think I might,' Castiel sighed.

'A friend?' Harry asked.

'He was, but if the clues continue in his direction, I fear he has betrayed me.'

'So, what do we do now?' Dean asked, keen as always to get down to business.

'We give Mr. Poole a burial worthy of a good wizard,' Harry said. 'He paid with his life to give us this information.'

'I will help in whatever way I can,' Castiel said. Harry only nodded.

XXX

Draco gasped, pain racing through him as he was forced to awaken. He squinted at the bright light coming from the ceiling lamp. The light became obscured as shape loomed over him.

'You're not going anywhere,' the angel said. 'Do you understand? Not even death is an escape now.'

Draco screamed.


	13. A Day at the Office

They went to the same cemetery they had visited that morning since they didn't have time to take Mr. Poole back to England, or find out about his wishes. They walked to the very edge, as far away from the church as possible. It was a nice spot, with the brook running by and the trees casting shimmering shadows. Harry eyed the disturbed graves, however, and felt the place had lost its charm.

He used magic to dig the grave. Castiel carried the body from the car. He had taken it out angel-style to avoid the receptionist. It was wrapped in the bed-sheet – very undignified, but there wasn't much they could do. The angel placed the dead man in his grave.

Harry stood staring down at him, wondering what sort of world he had been dragged into, where regular people were killed or became killers. Mr. Poole should have worked in an office all his life, happily married to a witch, with a couple of kids all wanting to grow up to become dragon tamers. Instead he was in the dirt in a small town Harry didn't even remember the name of, where demons and angels worked together against them.

'Do wizards have any death rituals?' Castiel inquired. Sam and Dean stood next to him, heads bowed respectfully.

'Sometimes, but it won't be the same with just one wizard,' Harry said, not mentioning the fact that he didn't feel like showing his respect to Mr. Poole. It wouldn't be completely honest. 'Besides, wizards have different belief systems and I have no idea about Mr. Poole's.'

'What do you believe?' Sam asked.

'Nothing,' Harry shook his head. 'Most of us simply don't think about religion. Besides, it's not like we're going to heaven or hell. Neither place will have us.' Harry snuck a brief glance at Castiel, but the angel didn't seem to react to his comment.

'Where do you go?'

Harry felt himself smiling and looked at Sam, who's brows furrowed at his expression.

'To the well organized mind, death is but the next great adventure,' he quoted.

'Who said that?' Dean asked.

'A very great man, and the greatest wizard I have ever known,' Harry said, looking back at the grave. 'Good words to say at a funeral.' Though Mr. Poole couldn't exactly be said to be well organized. Harry managed to get the dirt back in the grave with little effort and the four of them headed back to the car. They stopped by it, all of them glancing back at the cemetery and the disturbed graves.

'What're we gonna do about the resurrected?' Sam asked.

'Leave them be,' Harry suggested. 'I have a feeling the angel who did this is finished with this experiment.'

'We can't leave them alive, they have violated their destinies,' Castiel argued, his voice even rougher with him still being tired from his exertions.

'You are not going round to all these people's houses to kill them, just because one of your brothers decided to experiment on them.'

'I will erase the families' memories-'

'No!' Harry cut him off. 'You don't muck about in people's heads whenever you feel like it.'

'I say we check the rest of the town for demons, and if they've all left, we leave the resurrected alone,' Dean suggested.

'They can't be left alive,' Castiel repeated stubbornly.

'There is enough death around us, and they will be more before the end,' Harry said. He had almost died himself, and Castiel had saved him, but now the angel was perfectly content to kill a bunch of innocent people, all because they violated his rules? It maddened Harry beyond belief. 

'Cas, come on, it's a small town, what harm could it do?' Sam asked. 'They're not gonna turn zombie, are they?' 

'That's not the issue, and you know it,' Castiel told him. Sam sighed.

'Cas, please,' he said. 'Just let these people go. What's done is done.' Castiel turned away. Harry watched him silently, hoping Sam knew better how to handle the angel. It seemed the younger Winchester was better at persuasion, because Castiel let the matter drop. 

'I must go,' Castiel said. 'Don't leave until you're certain the demons have left as well.' He didn't wait for an answer. Harry sighed in relief, looking at Sam gratefully.

'Well, come on, we've got a lot of ground to cover,' Dean prompted. They all got in the car, prepared for a long day and night.

XXX

There weren't any demons left in the town. It was all an abandoned experiment. Dean set a course back to Bobby's. Harry was too distracted to sleep. His mind was turning over everything he knew about the Stone, and what the angel could be planning.

Sam had fallen asleep in the passenger seat. Harry noticed after a few minutes that Dean was trying to stuff an old straw up his brother's nose while driving. He leaned over the seat between them. Dean quickly retreated, both hands on the wheel, trying to look innocent.

'Not very brotherly of you,' Harry remarked, though he was smiling, thinking of the Weasleys and they're concept of "brotherly love." He glanced at Sam, who snored peacefully on, his long legs cramped into the space. Merlin, the guy was huge. While awake, the hunter tended to slouch to downplay his height, but like this he was displayed in all his huge glory, though it looked very uncomfortable.

'You gonna stare at him the whole drive?' Dean asked casually. Harry snapped backwards as if Dean had stamped on the accelerator.

'Just trying to figure out if there isn't some giant in Sam after all,' he said.

'Uh huh,' Dean said like there was something Harry was hiding. He decided to ignore weird American customs and just watch the scenery.

It was then he noticed that his pocket was unusually warm, and realized it was the Dumbledore's Army coin Draco had improved upon. He fished it out of his pocket and checked the edge. Instead of the regular numbers there was a message:

_Give time and place._

Harry knew Draco and Hermione had coins so he assumed it was one of them. Hermione was busy with regular life, however, with kids around the corner, and a husband who understandably did not want to get in trouble with the law. Harry guessed it was Draco.

He sent the coordinates of Bobby's place and the time he expected them to be back.

When he looked up again, Dean was tapping along to a song rather smugly and Harry noticed Sam had a straw stuck up his nose.

He shook his head and looked out the window. He remembered all the times during the war when things had seemed to dark, but they still found those stolen moments of laughter and light. Another quote from Albus swam to the surface of his mind:

_Happiness can be found in the darkest of times, if one only remembers to turn on the light._

He leaned forward.

'You know I can spell the straw to stick in his nose for a few moments, and squirt bubbles when he tries to pull it out.'

'Dude, you have to do that,' Dean said, trying not to be too loud as he shook with laughter. Harry grinned and set to work.

The results when Sam awoke were just as spectacular as expected.

XXX

Bobby welcomed them with dinner while they were all debriefed. Sam didn't feel much like going over it all again, so he just let Dean do most of the talking. His nose was still sore and every time he glanced at Harry the smug little Brit smirked at him. He grumbled into his stew, more for show than actual hurt feelings.

When it came to speculation about what the hell was really going on, Harry had to put on his grim face and explain as best he could.

'Crowley said it was all about the souls,' Harry said. 'He's using his angelic power to resurrect their bodies, and manipulating the Stone to get their souls. This was just a test. The Stone could double his arsenal in minutes.'

'He could just wander into any cemetery,' Sam said with growing horror. 'It's like resetting a game. He could take the souls out, or let the demons offer them deals.' 

'He'd be a kingpin of souls,' Dean grumbled. 

Harry nodded. 'But more than that, I think he plans on using the Stone on wizard souls. Souls his angelic powers can't normally get to.'

'Because they're not in heaven or hell,' Sam added quietly.

'Where are the ones he kidnapped?' Dean asked.

'I'm still waiting on Crowley for the information,' Harry reminded them.

'This is all...,' Dean rubbed his face. Sam knew his brother was tired, they all were, but with this whole new magical world thing it was a bit much, even for them.

'As far as I can tell this coming war will be chaotic to say the least,' Harry said quietly, staring into his food, but not really seeing it. 'During the war – with Voldemort – everything seemed simple at first,' he explained quietly. Sam felt a shiver go down his spine at the dark look in Harry's eyes. He had the look of a very old hunter right then.

'It was a civil war, wizards against wizards, and then all of a sudden there's a demon involved and no one knows who or what we're really fighting for. People switching sides left and right.' Harry shook his head.

'And now it's wizard versus demon versus angel,' Sam said.

'Not just that, but factions within each. We've got an angel working for us,' Harry said rather distrustfully, 'a demon helping our cause, and others working for an angel. We've got the purebloods like Lucius trying to play both sides, and we've got Voldemort somewhere in hell, doing Merlin knows what to get Lucifer free.' Harry sighed and put his head in his hands. 'Not to mention the Confederation of Wizards meeting to discuss whether they should get involved. By this point I'm not sure I want any more help.'

'Why don't we put the big picture aside for a while,' Bobby suggested, 'and concentrate on freeing your people first.' Harry nodded, looking grateful for the clarity Bobby provided. 'Well, eat up, you're way too skinny.'

'Yes, sir,' Harry said, putting on a good show by taking big spoonful. 'I should warn you that Draco Malfoy might show up. He signaled me with the coin.'

'Something happen?' Dean asked.

'I don't know,' Harry said. Sam got up to wash his plate. He didn't like the way Harry had talked about the blond wizard. It had seemed like a pretty difficult decision to make, to betray your father. Add the fact that he really hadn't betrayed Harry back in the war, and Sam couldn't really see why Harry still hated the man.

Sam walked into the library, intent on taking a nap on the couch, when he heard a loud pop he had come to recognize. He spun around, expecting the young blond, but instead found the older, dark-haired one. Snape, was it?

The noise must have traveled, for the rest of the team got up from the table.

'Professor Snape,' Harry greeted, coming forward. The man gave a quick glance at his surroundings, a slight sneer on his face, before facing Harry.

'Draco is gone,' Snape said without preamble, 'and I am not sure how long, but over a day at least.'

'Gone?' Harry asked.

'Kidnapped, by either demon or angel.' Snape's face was like stone, but Sam had some experience with hard, emotionally distant men, and he knew the man was worried.

'Why didn't you come sooner?'

'I was working in my lab,' Snape admitted, 'and I incorrectly assumed he had gone to the continent for the Confederation summit. You must find him.'

'Me? What do you mean, I must find him?'

'With Draco missing, Miss Granger and I are taking his place at the summit. We can't let that meeting go ahead without ensuring Draco's plans are kept intact.'

'Plans?'

Snape rolled his eyes. 'You think we have been sitting idle while you wrestle with demons in No Man's Land?' he asked sarcastically. 'Draco has been systematically using the Malfoy name and influence to ensure votes for our cause. Miss Granger has been working to heighten security at the summit, but, as usual, wizard pride gets in the way.'

'You think political machinations will solve anything?' Harry asked. Snape fixed him with a look Sam would not like to be at the receiving end of.

'I think the world will burn around us if we do nothing,' Snape told him. 'You may have be the Chosen One, Potter, but that war is over. You can't win this one alone.'

'I know that, and you know it!' Harry snapped. 'I had help back then, and we're all in it together this time.' He gestured to the rest of them and Snape cast his gaze around the group, the look in his eyes saying what he thought of such a rag-tag group of muggles.

'Just find him, Potter,' Snape said, and he looked old as a stone for a second, and about to crack. 'Quickly.'

'I think I may know where to look for him,' Harry assured him. 'I'm just waiting for a piece of information.' Snape nodded, sprinkled his acidic gaze on them one last time, and disappeared with a loud crack.

Harry sighed loudly in response, muttering something about 'damn, annoying Slytherins.'

'So, we wait for Crowley?' Bobby asked, looking far from pleased at the prospect.

'He said he'd give me the location,' Harry said.

'Well, I'm gonna get a long night's and day's sleep before then,' Dean announced, nodding decisively to the group and heading upstairs. Bobby disappeared into his downstairs bedroom. Harry sent Sam a tired smile and walked over to the couch. He seemed to fall asleep almost instantly, so Sam followed his brother upstairs.

XXX

Harry woke to the sound of water running. He sat up, rubbing his face. It was dark outside, but there was light in the kitchen. He had no idea how long he'd slept. The worn t-shirt and jeans could use a cleaning charm, but he was too tired. Snape's visit had disturbed him, and his dreams had been awful. He got up, his bones cracking, and went to investigate the sound. It was Sam, drinking a glass of water.

'Hey,' Harry said. He noted Sam's body tensed.

'Sorry, didn't mean to wake you. I was gonna go for a run.' Sam finished his drink and put the glass down hard.

'In the middle of the night?' Sam shrugged in response. He turned and leaned against the counter. Harry noted the t-shirt and sweat pants instead of the usual plaid, and paused a moment to marvel at how tanned the Winchesters were. Shaking his head at the odd thought, he cleared his throat.

'Bad dream?' he asked. Sam looked away, guilt marring his features.

'Something like that,' he mumbled, which Harry thought rather odd. He wasn't sure if he should push the issue.

'Memories?' he heard himself ask.

'No, not really,' Sam shook his head. He had a sad upturn to his lips, and puppy-dog eyes that could melt Professor McGonagall's steely resolve, Harry was certain. He wasn't sure how to handle it, however. Had he been back home, it would take a crowbar to pry discussions of feelings from his mates. He shifted uncomfortably. Sam appeared to notice and sighed. 'It's- it's nightmares, but they feel- so real. Like he's still in me.'

'You mean Lucifer?'

'Yeah...' Sam shook his head, trying to convey he was being silly for worrying. Harry swallowed.

'I have those,' he heard himself say, which was weird, because he hadn't mention it to anyone, not even Ron or Hermione. Sam frowned at him. 'Not Lucifer, but Voldemort, in my head. Not just memories, but like he's... communicating.'

'Exactly,' Sam said, surprised. Harry felt a strange surge of emotion inside him. Sam's face seemed to indicate he felt it too.

'That's how I knew it wasn't over,' Harry admitted. 'I just knew he wasn't gone for good.'

'Lucifer keeps trying to convince me all of this isn't real,' Sam said in a rush, gesturing to his surroundings. 'That I'm still in the cage.'

'I'm sorry to say all this is real,' Harry murmured. 'Wizards and wars and everything.' He took a seat at the kitchen table and Sam sat down opposite him. They didn't look at each other at first. All Harry could see were Sam's hands folded on the table. Huge hands, rough with work. He put his own hands up, pale and small by comparison, but also rough compared to his peers.

'You know the aura-reading only showed scars, right?' Harry asked. 'He's not in you.'

'Yeah, I know,' Sam said, 'but I don't think my brain remembers that when I'm asleep.'

'The demon blood left scars,' Harry murmured, not really realizing he'd said it out loud.

'Does that bother you?' Sam asked, causing Harry to look up, brow furrowed. 'That there's demon in me...'

'What? No, no, that's not-' Harry sighed. 'I have it too.'

There was a very long pause as Harry went back to staring at the table and Sam's hands.

'Demon blood?' Sam asked, confused.

'No, not exactly, but yes, a part of a demon was inside me and I think it left its own kind of scars...' He bit his lip to keep from voicing his deepest fear: that the last horcrux hadn't been destroyed, and that was why Voldemort visited his dreams. An irrational fear, he reminded himself, was not worth sharing.

'I'm not sure I understand.'

'Voldemort split his soul into seven parts,' Harry explained slowly. 'So he could be bound to this earth and never die or be sent back to hell. He would be a demon with a wizard's power. Each part was placed inside an object, something significant to him. Only, he never meant to make the seventh part.' He didn't need to look up to guess Sam was understanding the story. He could feel it in the air, hear it in Sam's breathing pattern, and see it in the way Sam's hands had moved ever-so-slightly away from him.

'He tried to kill me as a baby, but left a part of his soul in me instead. That's why I was the Chosen One,' Harry explained, his voice growing softer. He had never had to explain it all to someone. Everyone else had just known, or heard it from someone else. It felt good to lay it all out, seeing the story from afar, and sharing it with someone who, just like him, had received a mark of darkness inside them.

'But, it didn't effect you, did it?' Sam asked eventually.

'In some ways, it did,' Harry continued to spill his secrets. 'It gave me abilities, but it didn't make me evil, if that's what you're asking.'

'No, no...' Sam trailed off, and they both knew that's exactly what he had meant to ask. Suddenly, Dumbledore was in Harry's head once again.

'A great man once told me,' Harry said. 'It is our choices that show us who we truly are, far more than our abilities.'

'Seems like he was a very smart dude, this great man you keep quoting,' Sam said, and though his American accent made Harry want to smile, he appreciated Sam's seriousness. The hunter leaned forward suddenly, and grabbed Harry's hand, causing him to look up into those puppy-eyes. Amazing that such a broad and masculine face could hold such eyes, Harry thought, though the thick, longish hair softened his features considerably.

'Thanks, for telling me all that,' Sam said. 'You didn't have to.'

'We're in the same boat,' Harry dismissed the gratefulness. 'More so than anyone else.'

'I've never been in this kind of boat with anyone.'

'Me neither,' Harry said. 'Just don't believe your dreams.' Sam nodded. Harry briefly wondered when Sam was going to let go of his hand.

'How romantic,' came a rough Scottish brogue from across the room. Both Harry and Sam startled, the latter snatching his hand back as though burnt. Crowley leaned against the far side of the fridge, smiling rather smugly. 'Sorry to disturb the date.'

'Do you have the information?' Harry asked, placing one hand on his thigh, close to the pocket where his wand was. Crowley noted the movement, but seemed to accept Harry would be on alert around him.

'I know the place,' he said.

XXX

The place was an old abandoned office building in Detroit, the massive brick kind with dozens of small windows, five stories high. Dean wondered if the city held some cosmic significance. In any case he had grown to despise it. They had attempted to strategize as best they could. Despite them all being itchy to kick some arse, they sat down and planned things out as best they could with what little information they had.

They had Castiel with them, whose sole purpose was to find the angel. The rest of them were going to find the wizards as quickly as possible.

They came by day, simply because they hoped the demons would be busy, and not ready for an attack. They had no idea how many of them there were, which worried Dean more than a little.

Seated in the Impala across the street, Sam and Dean in the front, Bobby and Harry in the back, they waited for Castiel to pop in. Dean scanned the place continuously, but it appeared completely deserted.

'There are only three demons inside.' Dean jumped, swearing at Castiel's sudden appearance. He would never get used to it. He rolled down the window, glaring at the stupid angel.

'What'd you say?' he asked, sure he had misheard him through the window.

'As far as I can tell,' Castiel said, staring intensely at the building, 'there are only three demons inside.'

'Well, that's easy,' Dean remarked, a bit nonplussed. 'Looks like Crowley was telling the truth.' The demon had told them he'd recently recruited a bunch of demons to his side, leaving the angel's resources spread thin. They hadn't really believed him, but for once Dean was thankful that they had a demon who was – for now – on their side.

'What about the angel?' Sam asked.

'I don't know,' Castiel sighed.

'Well, let's get inside,' Dean said, and they all got out of the car. He looked to Harry and Bobby, nodding, and the pair headed around the building. He turned back to Cas-

'Cas?' The bastard was gone. So much for their plan. He exchanged an annoyed glance with Sam, who didn't even have the decency to look annoyed. He just shrugged and grabbed his shotgun. Dean did the same, made sure he had the knife this time, thank you very much, and jogged across the street.

The door wasn't locked - hardly a surprise. Demons tended to be too cocky for their own good. They went into combat-mode, and Sam took the lead. At first the place seemed abandoned. The small receptionist area looked like people had just walked out in the middle of the day and not come back. Then again, maybe that's exactly what had happened. Papers littered the floor, and there was an eerie, silent echo to the place that made the hairs on the back of Dean's neck stand up. There were a pair of old, broken elevators to the left, and a pretty impressive staircase past the receptionist desk in the middle of the room.

Bobby and Harry were going in the back, taking a service staircase to the basement, as that's where they suspected the demons were operating, though maybe that was stereotyping.

'Let's go,' Dean said, heading for the stairs. He was just about to take the first step down when both of them stopped short at a sound. A wailing. Dean looked up. He could see all the way to the top.

'Damn,' he muttered. Apparently, angels liked to do their business on the management floor. Sam shook his head.

'We should go down first, clean it out and meet up with the others,' he said, all reasonably.

'Yeah, or we could get up there before the suckers realize we're here,' Dean pointed out. Sam put on his bitch-face and was just about to argue, when another wail reached their ears. 'That's it,' Dean concluded, gripping his shotgun and taking the stairs two at a time.

'Dean!' he heard Sam whisper-yell. He heard the idiot calling Bobby on his cell, but it faded as he reached the third floor and the wailing grew louder. He followed the wide hallway, slow now, keeping watch for any movement.

There were a line of doors on each side, old offices from the days before modern cubicle farms. Each door had those foggy glass windows with the name and position of the previous owner. Apart from the large double doors at the end, all of them were the same.

Until he came to the metal door, that is. Out of place, yet without any signs that it had been recently installed, it felt as if it had just appeared there out of thin air. A wail of pain echoed through. He was about to try to open it, when several things happened in quick succession.

Two gunshots could be heard downstairs, and Dean swore in response. The wailing stopped abruptly, and there came a flash of light from the crack underneath the double doors at the end of the hallway.

'Castiel, how nice of you to drop in!' An overly cheerful, British voice seeped through. Dean, reacting on instinct, jogged to the door and listened. Should he bust in and help Cas, or wait and listen?

'Balthazar, why are you doing all this?'

'I'm trying to run a business here,' Balthazar said impatiently. 'I'm afraid you'll have to make an appointment. By the way, do you like the new office?'

Dean was about to bust in, when a meaty hand grabbed his shoulder and pulled him away from the door. He didn't have time to react before he was thrown down the hallway, sliding quite a few feet. The burly demon had an evil glint in his eyes that told of a good imagination and access to torture devices. Conveniently for Dean, the slide put him in perfect position to blast the fucker with rock salt as it came charging towards him.

The demon clutched his stomach and grit his teeth in pain, doubling over slightly.

'Dean Winchester,' it growled. 'We didn't get to spend a lot of time together downstairs, but I'm gonna make it up to you.' It grinned horribly, bloody teeth showing like it had been biting something. Dean grimaced and shot it again. The demon staggered back slightly. 'That the best you can do?' it spat, advancing again. Dean pulled the knife out, but instead of charging in rage the demon held up a hand and did his jedi-mind trick on Dean's throat, pinning him to the floor instead of the wall, for a nice change of pace.

Dean didn't have time to black out, however, as Castiel approached calmly from behind. He grabbed hold of the demon's head and the eyes flashed white. Dean gasped in much needed air.

'I'm going after him,' Cas said, disappeared instantly before the demon had time to hit the floor. Dean didn't bother wondering about who. The metal door was open, and he got up, reloaded his shotgun, and sneaked a peak inside.

It was a good ol' fashioned torture chamber, and the walls had been transformed into concrete, for added effect, presumably. The blond, Draco, hung in tatters in chains fastened to the ceiling. Dean could see the bite mark on his neck. He ran forward to check for a pulse, but before he could feel anything, Draco twitched like he had been slapped.

'Stop, please,' he pleaded.

'Easy, there,' Dean said, swallowing hard. 'The bastard's dead. The rescue party's here.'

'Let me die,' the young man pleaded. 'Let me die.'

'It's gonna be all right,' Dean told him, putting down his shotgun on the table of torture instruments. He noted the door at the other end of the room, possibly leading to other rooms with more wizards.

Dean focused on Draco again, noting how badly his shoulders and arms hurt from hanging so long. He looked at the chains: ordinary shackles - medieval, but ordinary. He scanned the table and found the keys.

'This is gonna hurt,' he warned when he finally got the man loose. Draco screamed when he was hoisted down. He was bloody, with several cuts to his chest and back, and the bite mark on his neck.

'Let me die,' he mumbled again, losing consciousness.

'Hey, no, stop that, stay with me,' Dean told him. He listened briefly, wondering about the others. There hadn't been more gunfire in a while. 'Just lay here for a moment, okay?' He put the poor fellow down as gently as he could and hurried to the unexamined door. It was unlocked. Inside he found a new hallway, made into cells. He checked each one, empty all.

Returning to the torture room, he slung one of Draco's arms around his shoulders and lifted him bridal style. The guy was way too skinny and pale, and Dean was worried he'd lost more blood than the wounds were letting on. He straightened, shifting the fellow into the best position, when Draco suddenly had a sort of spasm attack.

'My wand!' he gasped, reaching despite his pain towards the table. Dean, who had been about to grab his shotgun, leaned down instead so Draco could reach. After he had snatched it, his head fell on Dean's shoulder, and he appeared to fall unconscious, his hand clutching the wand cradled to his chest.

Shotgun awkwardly in hand, Dean hurried for the stairs.

XXX

'Dean!' Sam yelled. All plans were being tossed out the window. He fumbled for his cell, but as he tried to dial Bobby, he heard a faint gunshot from downstairs. He looked up again, but Dean was already gone. 'Goddammit,' Sam swore. He ran down.

The basement seemed to be just a labyrinth of corridors, all barely lit, with endless gray walls with that same echoing quality, probably with the express purpose of trapping office drones down here forever.

After several dead ends, Sam rounded a corner, and someone ran right into him with a speed like a man running from the devil himself.

He wasn't sure if he or the demon was more surprised, but he fired off a shot in the thing's stomach before either could decide. It fell backwards with a cry. Sam shot it again for good measure. He saw Harry at the end of the corridor, running with wand raised.

'Get out of the way, Sam!' The demon flung his arm out before the hunter could react and Sam was flung backwards into the wall, knocking the air out of him. The demon sprang up, charging Sam, who tried to hit it with the end of his gun, but instead, the demon managed to grab his head and smashed it into the wall, hard.

Ears ringing, world spinning, Sam wasn't even aware he was being manhandled until he realized had his back against the wall with the demon's hand tight around his throat.

'One spell, and this one gets it first,' the demon warned. Sam tried to shake his head, but the dizziness persisted. Fuck, it hurt, and slowly losing his air supply didn't help. He was pretty sure the demon was gonna break his neck before Harry could get off a curse.

Harry had a fierce look in his eyes, the kind that made Sam believe the guy had fought a war, and won.

Suddenly, an exorcism echoed down the hallway. Sam gasped as the demon let go, staggering backwards.

'Sam, get down flat,' Harry ordered, and Sam didn't disobey. 'Avada Kedavra!' Harry yelled and a blast of green light lit up the darkness, shooting straight over Sam and into the demon, whose body crumpled even as the smoke burst forth.

'Accio demon!' Harry yelled and held forth a large glass jar, on the bottom of which Harry had carved a demon trap after Sam's instructions. The smoke resisted at first, but soon it got sucked into the glass. Harry screwed the lid shut for good measure. He turned to Bobby with a 'Here', and threw it. Bobby caught it with a stern look for being so careless. Sam had rolled over on his back, and stared up as Harry leaned over him.

'You okay?' Harry asked.

'Dean,' Sam said, pushing himself up.

'Come on,' Harry said, giving a surprisingly strong helping hand for such a little guy. They all hurried back the way Sam had come, and as they reached the lobby, they heard heavy footsteps from above. Two guns and a wand aimed in ready, but all three lowered in relief as Dean appeared with Draco. Harry ran to greet them, waving his wand over Draco's form.

'Is he alive?' Dean asked urgently.

'Yes,' Harry said. He grimaced at the state of him, and Sam did the same when he saw the bite mark. 'Did you find anyone else?'

'No, just him,' Dean said grimly, taking it slow down the last few steps. 'All the other cells were empty.' Harry nodded, casting a few spells Sam hoped were for healing, though they didn't seem to do any immediate, physical change.

Draco gasped softly, though the echo of the building carried it: 'Let me die.'

'I told you to stop saying that,' Dean admonished. 'You're safe now.'

'Yeah,' Harry said with a heavy swallow. 'He's right, Draco, it's okay now. Let's get him back to the motel, where I can heal him properly.'

As they all walked to the car, Sam suddenly glanced behind them, then looked at Dean.

'Where's Cas?'

'Going after Balthazar,' Dean told him.

'Balthazar? Really? I didn't think torture was his style.'

'He's an angel, so he prefers other to do his dirty work for him.' Sam frowned, but didn't comment further.

Dean took his time in placing Draco in the Impala.


	14. Dream of Death

Dean had forced himself to watch from the kitchen, leaning against the doorframe, as Sam gently placed the unconscious Draco on Bobby's couch. Harry had waved his wand over him, and since then, he had yet to wake up from the coma, or whatever it was. According to Harry it was a "healing sleep". Apparently, it was the safest way without access to a professional healer. They didn't know what kind of internal damage the demon had done. Harry had used his coin thing to contact the Snake guy, but they hadn't gotten a return message.

They had therefore gone back to Bobby's, and when Sam had moved to open the Impala's door, Dean had resisted the urge to push his brother out of the way. Up to that point, he had managed to be the one to carry Draco without actually insisting on it, but he couldn't tell Sam not to do it directly. That'd be weird, and besides, he shouldn't be feeling responsible for the guy anyway. Draco had felt so fragile, though, and Dean always felt responsible whenever demon torture was involved. On top of all that, the scene with the father kept replaying in his mind.

Dean told himself he was concerned for a fellow human being, but that didn't explain him coming downstairs in the middle of the night for no reason.

The others had gone to bed long ago, and Harry was curled up in a chair next to the couch, in case Draco woke up. It didn't look very comfortable.

Dean sighed and turned from the scene. He got a beer out of the fridge, turned around, and damn near had a heart attack. Harry smiled sheepishly from the doorway.

'Jesus, hang a bell around your neck or somethin',' Dean grumbled, hating that his mind was so full of bullshit he was letting his guard down. He took a large gulp to calm his nerves.

'Sorry,' Harry said, shuffling his feet awkwardly and glancing behind him at Draco. 'I'm going to walk the perimeter, check the wards.'

'You do that,' Dean acknowledged, wondering if Harry's sleeplessness was something besides the uncomfortable chair.

Dean stood very still as he listened to Harry leaving the house. He put his beer down on the counter and went and sat in the chair Harry had vacated, leaning forward, elbows on knees. Draco lay still and peaceful- or almost. Dean noticed his eyes were moving. He was dreaming.

Dean wanted to wake him, knowing instinctively what sort of dreams the man was having. He closed his eyes, flashes of hell coming to him easily. At first it was just lights and smells, then pain and sounds. He saw Alistair's smiling face.

He had to open his eyes before he got lost in the memory. Draco was staring right back at him.

Dean let out a breath of surprise, but words stuck in his throat. Draco's face held fear, but there was hope as well. 'Hey,' Dean managed eventually. 'It's okay… do you remember me? You're safe now. The demon's dead.' He wasn't sure if Draco understood.

'Let me die…?' It was a question, or more like a plea. Dean shook his head.

'You don't need to die, you're safe,' he repeated. Draco closed his eyes briefly and tears trailed down his cheeks. Guilt, sour like bile, rose up in Dean's throat.

'Where… where am I?' Draco asked, clearing his throat. He was very hoarse, probably from screaming so much.

'At Bobby's, it's safe. Harry's out walking the perimeter right now.' Draco tried to sit up, but Dean quickly put a hand on his shoulder. 'Hey, stay put. I'm gonna get you some water, okay?' Draco nodded and went boneless. Dean hurried to do as he had said, and gently helped Draco drink. The guy drank a whole glass, and breathed a sigh of relief afterwards.

'My father,' he whispered next. Dean clenched his jaw. Ever since that scene in the motel, and Draco's face as he had had to face his bastard of a father, Dean had silently been stewing over how he would kill the guy. His favorite scenario was dropping a house on the douchebag.

'What about him?' Dean asked.

'Did you find him?'

'What?'

'He was there-… I think...'

'The other cells were empty,' Dean explained. 'I'm sorry.' He wasn't, of course, but even he knew the right thing to say occasionally. Draco didn't seem to react, he just stared at the ceiling for a long moment, before turning his attention to Dean.

'You're one of the muggles Potter was working with…'

'Yeah, name's Dean.'

'Dean,' Draco repeated it like he had never heard it before. He seemed a little out of it. Dean wished Harry would get back so he could wave the magic wand and tell him if something was wrong. 'Thank you, Dean, for rescuing me.'

'Oh…' Thanks wasn't something he was used to. 'You're welcome.' What an idiot. Draco was beginning to regain some of the quickness in his eyes. He was looking around more, getting his bearings. He looked down at the rags that were the remnants of his robe.

'Harry left some clothes for you,' Dean said. Getting up to fetch them from Bobby's desk. 'They're actually mine, but he did a spell that re-sized them.' That had been pretty weird, though he didn't know why he was telling Draco, as it was probably perfectly normal to him. He put the jeans, t-shirt, boxers and socks on the chair and hovered for a bit.

'There's a bathroom down the hall if you're feeling ready to get up.'

'I think I would,' Draco said, though he didn't sound certain. He sat up slowly and kept a firm hold on the couch as he got up. Dean remained close, and when Draco put a hand to his forehead and swayed dangerously, Dean reached out and took hold of his elbow. 'I'm fine,' Draco mumbled. 'Lightheaded, often the result of a healing sleep. Best remedy is a Vigoration Draught, followed by a Nutrient Potion.' It sounded like he was reciting a textbook. Maybe it was the equivalent of Sam doing calculus in his head when he used to get scared as a kid.

'Right,' Dean said. 'There's some soup in the fridge I could heat up.'

'That'll do,' Draco took a deep breath and took a few steps. Dean carried the clothes as he showed him to the bathroom, then waited outside for a few seconds, just in case he heard the sound of Draco falling. Eventually, he went and found the soup.

It was halfway warm, and Dean was wondering if wizards could heat soup magically, when Draco finally reappeared. The jeans and grey/blue t-shirt looked surprisingly good on him, and Dean suddenly had the weirdest thought - that he hoped wizards could spell away body odor from clothes, cause Draco seemed the type to be offended by that sort of thing. Although, maybe that was Dean's English stereotype, not Disney's. Dean shook his head; what was wrong with his brain lately?

'Something wrong?' Draco asked. He looked dead tired.

'No, no,' Dean assured him. He gestured to the soup. 'Hungry?'

'I don't know. I should be, I suppose.' Draco made his way to the kitchen table and sat down heavily, and Dean tried not to wince at the thought of that thin frame hitting the hard chair. Draco didn't seem to care.

Dean got a bowl of soup and put it in front of Draco with another glass of water. He watched the wizard carefully, looking for signs of… anything.

'Are you sure you won't kill me?' Draco asked suddenly.

'What? No,' Dean snapped. 'I told you-'

'I need to die,' Draco said, perfectly calm, staring at his soup. 'Just to check, just to make sure.'

'Sure of what?' Dean asked, disturbed.

'If I can,' Draco whispered. His eyes had gone glassy. Dean reached out and grabbed his hand. It seemed to send a jolt through Draco, who looked up with wide eyes.

'Death is inevitable,' Dean told him. Strange words of comfort, but Draco nodded gratefully.

There was a pause as Dean tried to tell his hand to let go of Draco's.

'You said he was dead?' Draco asked.

'The demon, yeah.'

'And the angel?'

'We'll get him too, soon.' Draco nodded.

'You are certain my father wasn't there?'

'Yeah, we checked the whole place.'

'Right.' Dean realized Draco was staring at their joined hands and he finally managed to let go. Draco took a few spoonfuls of soup. He spilled some when the front door opened suddenly.

'It's just Harry,' Dean assured him. Sure enough, Harry appeared, looking a bit red from the night air.

'Draco,' he said, neutral.

'Potter.' Harry wasted no time and immediately waved his wand around. Draco seemed uninterested and went back to his soup.

'How do you feel?' Harry asked, sitting down at the table.

'Tried,' Draco replied.

'You should sleep,' Harry told him.

'I'm well aware.' Dean knew exactly why he didn't want to, though. 'Do you…' Draco went very still suddenly. He looked afraid, and Dean frowned.

'You should take some Dreamless Sleep,' Harry suggested suddenly. 'Just to make sure you get a full night's rest. I've got some for emergencies.' Draco's whole body deflated from the sigh he released, and he nodded with clear relief. Harry got up to fetch what Dean assumed was a pretty awesome potion. He could have used that himself about a hundred times the last few years.

Draco looked up and caught Dean's eye, and held his gaze. Dean saw all the pain of hell there, but most of all, he recognized that look of hopelessness: that it would never end. Draco hadn't been in hell, but he had been bound in a different way, Dean realized. He wanted to die because he was afraid he couldn't. Dean opened his mouth to say something, anything, but there wasn't anything that would help.

Harry took over from there. He got Draco back on the couch and drugged up on that Dreamless Sleep. They had a whispered conversation, but Dean decided not to eavesdrop. Eventually, Harry went back to his chair, and Dean finished his beer alone.

XXX

Harry paced the living room. Draco was in the kitchen eating what he could manage of breakfast, with Dean seated across from him, watchful. Draco was very quiet, and looked odd in Dean's clothes. Sam had given Harry a concerned look that morning, and Harry had shrugged in response. He wasn't sure what he could do for Draco, and it was weird feeling concern towards him.

Snape was suppose to arrive at any moment. Hopefully, he would take Draco home and Harry wouldn't have to deal with it.

Sam came inside from his morning run. His t-shirt had dark stripes of sweat, making it cling to him. He walked through the kitchen and drank some water, glanced curiously at Draco as a passed, and gestured with his head for Harry to follow him upstairs. Harry decided to humor him and followed.

Sam stopped outside the bathroom, turning around and leaning against the wall. Harry stuffed his hands in his pockets and did the same opposite.

'He okay?' Sam asked.

'I think so, physically,' Harry shrugged.

'And mentally?'

'I wouldn't know how to judge,' Harry shook his head. 'At school Malfoy was… a bit of a cry baby, but obviously he's not like that anymore, though I never thought he'd survive something like that.'

'People can always surprise you,' Sam pointed out a little sharply. Harry could tell by the briefest of glances into those puppy eyes what Sam was hinting at.

'Why is it so important to you that I like Draco?'

'Not like him,' Sam explained with a sigh, 'just accept him, I guess. People deserve second chances, and he didn't even really betray you-'

'Not that one time, but that doesn't mean-'

'He's on our side-'

'He was a spoiled git-' Harry bit his lip and shook his head. He could feel all that old rage boiling up inside him at the slightest provocation. It was a little scary, if he was honest. 'You're right.' He looked away. 'I guess I just hate what he reminds me of - school mostly.'

'He bullied you.'

'Yeah, but it's not that. It's that he reminds me how much I miss that.'

'Bullying?' Sam's eyebrows reached for his hairline.

'Yes, essentially,' Harry chuckled. 'Because back then, bullying was the easiest thing we had to deal with. If we were bullying each other then nothing life-threatening was going on. It was just the three of us, against the three of them.' Harry smiled, feeling relief at understanding his emotions, and a little stupid that it had taken him so long to realize it.

'I can relate,' Sam said. 'When I was in school, I loved stressing out over deadlines, and Dean would try his hardest to get me to procrastinate,' Sam chuckled, a deep, fond sound Harry thought very comforting. His smile was infectious and Harry's own widened.

'Do you think we'll ever get that feeling back?' Harry asked.

'Probably not,' Sam said honestly, his smile turning sad. 'But we can find moments.'

'True. Moments… they get you through the fire.' Sam nodded. Harry's eyes drifted down the man's chest, and he suddenly realized Sam was still rather sweaty. 'You should shower,' he heard himself say.

'I was about to,' Sam said. 'Us muggles can't wave a wand to get clean, we have to wash by hand.' Harry's gaze flickered to Sam's large hands, and he felt a blush slap itself across his face, and coughed to clear a sudden itch in his throat. He mumbled something like 'you do that' and went downstairs again. 

XXX

It wasn't until later that day that Snape finally arrived. Bobby was cooking lunch. Draco and Dean were seated at the kitchen table, though Harry wasn't sure why Dean was being so helpful. He preferred to stay on the couch in the library with Sam. Draco also seemed surprisingly civil to everyone.

Harry heard the pop of Apparition and everyone tensed. He jumped up as Snape strode in from the hallway, looking more haggard than Harry had seen him since the war. He searched the room with his eyes frantically until his eyes landed on Draco.

'Draco,' Snape said, striding forwards. Draco only just managed to get up of his chair before he was enveloped in Snape's imposing robes. Harry was surprised to say the least- he had never seen Snape hug anyone before, and certainly hadn't imagined it like that. Draco clung to him in return and everyone tried not to stare.

Finally, Snape pulled away and held Draco at arm's length.

'How are you?'

'I'm all right, considering,' Draco replied. 'Potter put me in a healing sleep.' Snape shot Harry a glance he couldn't interpret. 'I really need to go home.'

'I don't think that's wise, under the circumstances,' Snape said grimly.

'What? Why?'

'Sit down, and I'll tell you.' Draco opened his mouth to protest, but sat down instead. Snape turned to Harry with an expression so grim Harry feared the worst.

'The International Confederation of Wizards has been… destroyed.'

'What?' Harry and Draco exclaimed.

'There was an explosion. Over twenty people were killed, fifteen of them official representatives. It happened as they were assembling.'

'Who's behind it?' Harry asked.

'I do not know, but I know who they are blaming,' Snape sighed. 'The angels.'

'They wouldn't,' Sam said. He had gotten up from the couch and Harry got a silent kick out of how much taller he was than Snape, but he didn't have time to dwell on it. 'They don't want a fight with you,' he explained when Snape glanced at him sharply.

'Although I don't doubt they are capable,' Snape replied, 'I suspect the third party in this war.'

'Demons,' Draco said, his gaze losing focus.

'We need to talk to Crowley,' Harry said.

'He wouldn't want this,' Dean said. 'He wants to be the only one left standing when all of this is over. Escalating things before all the pieces are in place would show his cards.'

'Not if all the pieces are in place,' Bobby suggested. 'Maybe he thinks an all-out fight would end it cleanly, for him.'

'Who is this Crowley?' Snape asked.

'A demon, King of Hell, he calls himself, though I suspect he's not the sole contender for that throne,' Harry said.

'Indeed,' Snape. He looked off, like he was uncomfortable, almost awkward. 'Potter, have you had any dreams lately?'

Harry went rigid. No, no, no, it was too soon. He needed more time. Snape looked like he was about to tell someone their mother had died. He was worried Harry would snap, and Harry wasn't entirely sure he wouldn't. He swallowed and paced out through the open doors to the library and Bobby's desk. Sam followed. Harry turned abruptly when he reached it, and almost walked right into a wall of man. He looked up into Sam's concerned face. There was a kindred fear in those eyes that Harry took a cold comfort in. Everyone else followed, staring at him. 

'What sort of dreams are we talking about?' Bobby asked.

'We're not connected anymore,' Harry said, more to convince himself than the others. 'So, any dreams I had would be just nightmares…'

'Do you really believe that?' Snape asked. Harry swallowed painfully.

'Last night I had a dream,' Harry began slowly, taking a deep breath. 'But it was more than that,' he admitted, 'It was a sensation really, an emotion… of terrible satisfaction.'

'Then it is as I suspected,' Snape concluded. 'He is returned to our plane of existence.'

'But how?' Harry demanded. It was too soon.

'How does any demon get out of hell?' Snape asked. 'The question is if he has managed to release his master.' Everyone looked simultaneously at Sam, who shifted uncomfortably and shook his head.

'No, he's… he's been in my head, but they're just dreams. He's never told me he's out.' Harry reached out and touched Sam's arm, feeling the need to remind him what was real. Sam didn't acknowledge the gesture, but the fact that he didn't pull away was more than enough.

'You must both be mindful of your dreams,' Snape told them. 'They may be clues.'

'What is the Confederation doing right now?' Harry asked, wanting to get back on a topic they could potentially do something about.

'They are massing an army to fight the heavenly host,' Snape said bitterly. 'Though they've yet to find someone to lead it, or to decide where they would strike.'

'This is...,' Harry sighed. He felt a headache coming on.

'Many blame you for this, saying it is a result of freeing the Winchesters,' Snape told him unnecessarily. 'Do not return to Britain.'

'I wasn't considering it,' Harry snapped.

'It would also be wise if Draco stayed here for a while.'

'Why?' Draco asked.

'Your father has returned,' Snape said. 'He is telling everyone you've died.' Draco's face paled. 'I plan to confront him, though preferably somewhere in public.' Snape sighed. 'I must be off. I can't keep popping over to inform you of events, as that would attract attention.'

'So, you want me to sit on my arse while our world goes bonkers?'

'I want to keep you alive until you're needed,' Snape snapped. 'Again,' he added. Harry huffed in frustration.

'You sound like Dumbledore,' he muttered before he could stop himself. Then he hated himself, for wasn't it just a few days ago he was reminiscing about how great the man was? Snape's face told him how big of a mistake he had made.

'Stick with your ghosts and ghouls,' he said coldly. 'And message me if you have another dream.' He turned to Draco. 'I will return for you as soon as I can.' He patted Draco on the shoulder and swept out of the room. Harry felt like a hurricane had passed through. Everyone seemed to be studying their shoes.

'Excuse me,' Harry mumbled, determined to get away. He stalked as fast as he could without actually running. It was drizzling outside, the sort that doesn't really fall, just gets everything damp. Harry hadn't bothered with a jacket, and regretted that a little. It was rather childish to storm off.

He found a comfortable looking car to lean against.

Was he doomed to repeat his destiny? No, that wasn't his greatest fear. His greatest fear was _failing_ to repeat his destiny.

And worse than that: a part of him actually wanted to fail.

'Hey.'

Harry's body twitched. Sam shouldn't have been able to sneak up on him. Harry wasn't sure if he wanted those concerned eyes on him right at that moment. But then Sam leaned against the car next to him, and he knew he did. 'You okay?'

'I don't want to fight him again,' Harry heard himself say. 'I didn't last time, either, of course, but I feel like…'

'Your luck will run out,' Sam concluded. He slung an arm around Harry's shoulders and Harry turned halfway towards him. 'But you've got Winchesters on your side this time. We've all saved the world once, we'll do it again.' Harry smiled gratefully, because he knew Sam was freaking out as much as him, but those damn puppy dog eyes were still trying their damnedest to be comforting. Sam's arm was heavy on his shoulders and Harry felt himself leaning forwards slightly.

'You'll tell me if your dreams change?' Harry asked softly. He felt incredibly safe so close to Sam's towering frame.

'Sure, ditto, though.' Harry tilted his head up and smiled.

'Sure,' he said. 'Chances are if anything happens, we'll both have them.'

'Do you really think there's still a connection?' Sam asked, frowning.

'I really don't know, but with our luck, for better or worse, we'll know when they're up to something.' Sam's eyes suddenly flitted across Harry's face in an odd way. At least, Harry thought it was odd until Sam gently slid his hand across Harry's cheek to cup his face.

'Oh,' Harry let out as Sam leaned down - he had quite a way to go. Harry let his eyes close as Sam's lips met his. Harry thought it would be a kiss worthy of the puppy dog eyes, but Sam's grip tightened and his kiss turned unexpectedly passionate. Harry found himself pulled into it willingly. His heartbeat speed up for a good reason for once, and it was both exciting and joyful.

Sam's tongue entered the picture and Harry let out a not-at-all-girly moan. Sam put his strong arms around Harry's waist and almost lifted him off the ground with the strength of his embrace.

There was definitely some cliché head spinning, and Harry was fairly certain he felt his toes curl. There was a voice inside that was screaming "what are you doing?" but that voice was too focused on war and death to be of any consequence. He couldn't help but wonder what sort of voice was in Sam's head though.

So he pulled away, and cleared his throat.

'Sorry,' Sam stuttered, letting go abruptly, thinking Harry was regretting it. 'I'm not sure where that came from- I mean-' He looked adorable when he was nervous, Harry decided, and pulled him down for another kiss. Sam's arms slowly snaked back around Harry's waist, as if unsure of their welcome. Harry deepened the kiss as much as he could from his position.

He pulled away slower this time, so that Sam didn't get the wrong idea.

'So…' Sam began, then bit his lip to keep from speaking. Harry chuckled.

'We should go inside. Bobby made lunch.'

Sam let out a breath of relief. He hadn't screwed things up. The urge to kiss Harry had hit him with such force he couldn't stop himself. He had never had someone like Harry who could tell him with a look that he was feeling the same thing. Dean could tell what Sam was feeling most of the time, but he could never feel it with him. Maybe it was a poor reason to kiss someone, or maybe it was the best reason.


	15. The Start

Harry and Sam took their time walking back to the house, stealing glances like randy teenagers. Moments, Sam thought with a smile.

When they finally entered the kitchen they found Dean, Bobby and Draco gathered around the small table. Harry sent Sam a look that told him exactly how bizarre he was suppose to find this, and Sam did, only he smirked back at Harry in defiance and grabbed a bowl of fresh stew. The pair had to eat on the couch in the library, but it didn't matter much, though Sam would have liked to keep a closer eye on Dean. He had been a bit overprotective of Draco, and while Sam understood that Dean felt responsible - he always did when demon torture was involved - there was something off about his "I'm concerned"-stare.

After they had eaten Sam decided to browse his usual weird news sites, more out of habit than an actual desire for a case. Harry ate really slowly, like he was savoring every bite, though Sam didn't think Bobby's stew was anything to drool over. He focused on his laptop and scanned the top posts. It was like someone was posting stories just for them, and these days that was more than a little suspicious. Sam frowned as he scanned the stories, all about a series of strange and disgusting deaths in a small town down in Kansas.

The reason Sam was suspicious was the nature of the deaths. They weren't consistent, so it wasn't animal or creature that killed according to habit or ritual. That meant either something so disturbed it just liked thinking up fucked up ways to kill people, or it was a curse that effected people in different ways. Sam didn't think it was witches - too disgusting for your average pissed off house wife.

'Hey, Harry, take a look at this,' Sam requested. Harry scooted closer on the couch and leaned slightly forwards to look at the computer on the coffee table. Sam tried to resist the urge to lean over and take another kiss. Harry gave him a look over the rim of his glasses, through his nest of hair, and Sam cleared his throat to cover his awkwardness.

'This is weird,' Harry commented, scanning the news articles Sam had gathered. 'A man melts?'

'Think we should check it out?'

'Check what out?' Dean asked as he strolled over to them with a beer in hand.

'A series of bizarre deaths down in Kansas,' Sam explained, turning the computer towards Dean, who leaned down to have a look.

'Something juicy?' Dean looked positively gleeful at the prospect of a regular case.

'It's a weapon of heaven.'

Everyone looked over to the corner, where Castiel had appeared. He looked awful: his hair was a mess, his tie barely hanging on, and his trench coat had several singe marks. He walked forwards, only to stop abruptly and turned to face the kitchen. Draco stared back, tilting his head in that curious way of his, before standing. Sam noted Dean had tensed, but Draco appeared utterly calm, almost aristocratic despite his ordeal and his apparel.

'I should make introductions,' Harry said with forced politeness. Sam winced slightly in sympathy. 'Castiel, this is Draco Malfoy. Malfoy, this is Castiel.'

'I'll take a walk while you discuss your business,' Draco said stiffly, and marched straight out, leaving the rest of the group in awkward silence, except for Castiel, who either didn't care or didn't feel the emotion.

Sam glanced at Harry, but he was intently focused on Castiel.

'Another weapon?' he asked.

'Yes and no,' Castiel began. 'The results are no where near powerful enough, but I suspect Balthazar is either experimenting again, or luring us in.'

'So this time we catch him,' Dean declared with his usual certainty.

'No,' Castiel shook his head. 'It's either another trap or experiment. In either case, you can not risk yourselves at this time. Something big is just around the corner.'

'You want us to stay here?' Sam asked incredulously.

'I will see to it,' Castiel assured him. 'As soon as I am able.'

'People are dying,' Dean spat out, angry. Castiel turned to him.

'And many more will soon,' he said. 'Take another case if you feel restless, just not this one.'

'Just stick with ghosts and ghouls, is that it?' Dean asked snarkily.

'There will be time for fighting, Dean,' Castiel assured him grimly. 'Just, wait a moment,' he almost pleaded, before appearing to listen to something far away and then disappearing without so much as a goodbye.

'Dammit!' Dean swore, pacing back and forth a few times. 'This is bullshit.'

'He's right,' Harry said resignedly. 'Trust me, the worst part of any war is waiting for it to start.'

'There isn't gonna be a war, not for us,' Dean snapped, glaring at Harry. 'It's gonna come down to a bunch of dicks having a measuring contest, while real people die for no good reason.' He stalked out in a huff, and Sam really felt like joining him. How could they have anything to do with this war between angels, demons and wizards? It all seemed beyond them.

'Well, I'm gonna go actually do some work,' Bobby grumbled, pushing himself up from the table. He had been surprisingly quiet for a while - probably didn't like all the weird folks coming and going in his house. 'If you idjits want to help, there's lots to do out in the yard.' Sam watched him leave.

'I'm sorry,' Harry sighed. Sam didn't look over at him, but stared at the gruesome photo of the crime scene someone had snapped from behind a tree. This was a case, and they shouldn't care if it was a trap or something else. They never had before. 'I know what it's like to stand by and feel useless.'

'We don't,' Sam said. 'I mean, things are pretty hopeless, most of the time, but at least we always chose to go out fighting, you know?' he glanced over and saw Harry nod at his knees. Sam shifted slightly towards him. 'Listen, about the kiss.'

'Let's not talk about it,' Harry said. 'It was a moment of… hopelessness.'

'That's what you think?' Sam asked, hurt more than he liked to admit. Harry looked up, and Sam thought it was an old man's eyes that met his.

'I think we'll be dead soon,' Harry said matter-of-factly, sighing and rising from the couch. He walked over to the Bobby's library, and ran his fingers along a couple of books. Sam got up and came over to him, grabbing his shoulder and spinning him around. He took hold of Harry's head as firmly as he dared and leaned in. He didn't feel any resistance, and when their lips met Harry didn't hesitate to kiss him back. When he felt confident enough, Sam let his hands move to Harry's waist and pull him closer. The glasses were a little annoying, so he quickly pushed them up on Harry's head. The kiss deepened and Harry gripped Sam's collar as if to hang on in case he fell.

Sam hadn't kissed a lot of guys, but every time he did, he was surprised by how much it thrilled him. Maybe it was the fact that he always went for the smaller man - kind of inevitable when you were Sam's size - but he always felt on top of the world when he could take a man in his arms and be gentle. It was the opposite of the women he attracted, who always seemed to confuse sex with fighting. Harry was different, though, or maybe somewhere in between. He was short, obviously, but he felt stronger than anyone Sam had ever met. Not physically exactly, but there was this tingling sensation that Sam thought simply had to be magical that enveloped them, and made Harry seem like he was the one surrounding Sam.

Finally, Sam broke the kiss and looked down at the wizard. Harry's glasses sat crooked on his head, and his lips were red from the hard kiss. Sam chuckled softly.

'If the world wasn't ending, I'd still want to kiss you,' he told him, just because he wasn't a coward. Harry swallowed and nodded, so Sam let him go and walked back to his computer, sitting down in front of it and looking through his movies folder. 'You wanna watch a movie?' he asked. Maybe an action movie would calm his nerves.

'Sure,' Harry replied, sitting down right next to him.

XXX

Draco wandered around the labyrinth of rusty husks, wondering how on earth they had ever been deemed suitable for conveyance. The whole place was rather like the Burrow, which admittedly Draco had only heard talk of, but he imagined it had to be something similar: close to falling down, yet standing apparently through sheer will alone, or magic in the Weasley's case.

It wasn't that he didn't understand the concept of homey, or cozy, but having grown up in style and, most importantly, space, Draco had a hard time to see anything cozy about such stuffed rooms. How could they handle living so… messily? Nothing had a place of its own.

He heard the crunch of gravel somewhere in the maze, and wondered who was coming to make sure he didn't run back across the pond. He fingered his wand in his pocket, marveling that Potter would even allow him to have it, and waited.

Dean came round the corner, looking angry, and clearly searching for him. Draco wasn't sure if he wanted his muggle savior to find him. He stepped back so that he leaned against a stack of automobiles, hidden from Dean's view.

The man sighed visibly, letting go of his anger. He kicked away a small rock. Draco studied his back for a while and felt annoyingly drawn to the muggle. He was incredibly handsome in a gruff sort of way Draco wasn't used to.

'Looking for me?' Draco asked, delighting in the way Dean spun around in surprise.

'Yeah, no, not really,' Dean shook his head.

'Just checking up on me, again,' Draco pointed out. He observed Dean with a keen eye, but the man wasn't as easy to read as he had first appeared.

'You seemed upset, about Cas,' Dean commented. Draco looked away at that. He didn't want to think about the angel, or any angels. They made goosebumps appear all over him. The demon may have inflicted pain, but it was the angel who ordered it, and if it was one thing Draco had learned during his relative short life is that you always feared the man giving the orders. The memory of pain and utter despair sometimes threatened to choke him, but he thought he was handling it admirably.

'I don't wish to discuss non-Veela entities,' he said stiffly.

'What the hell is a Veela, anyway?' Dean asked. 'And why do you call angels that?'

'A Veela is a beautiful creature, that uses its magic to lure its mate in. You might know its cousin, the Siren. It's mentioned in classical muggle literature.'

'I know what a Siren is,' Dean told him, a little testily.

'Well, a Veela is far more terrifying,' Draco assured him. 'The term non-Veela was first applied by a researcher in the early third century. He believed angels fit the description, as they often appeared to pick the most beautiful muggles to inhabit in order to more effectively spread their message of God and paradise. The two creatures obviously have nothing to do with each other, but the name stuck, since we despise using the term angel.'

'Because you don't believe in God,' Dean said.

'Oh, I believe in God,' Draco told him, feeling a smirk coming on at Dean's confused face. 'I just don't believe he cares one wit about us, or that he gives the so-called angels any instructions whatsoever.' Instead of the angry huff or rant he expected, Draco was faced with a bemused expression.

'Well, that's one thing we can agree on,' Dean said with a sort of grunt. Draco wasn't entirely used to the American voice, and to be perfectly honest, he thought it sounded rather dumb, but Dean sounded surprisingly wise, in a manual labour sort of way.

'You don't believe the angels?'

'Kinda hard to believe in something that you know exists, if that makes sense,' Dean shrugged. 'They're a bunch of dicks out to serve their own agenda, but Cas is all right. He's on our side.'

'Right,' Draco said, raising a dubious eyebrow. Dean chuckled. 'You're very peculiar,' Draco heard himself say and Dean stopped short and gave him an odd look. 'For a muggle,' Draco added.

'You don't like us very much, do you?' Dean asked.

'I don't much like anyone,' Draco admitted, turning away and laying his hand on the nearest car, feeling its cold roughness, all dents and rust. He had never seen so much metal in one place, all useless now. Seemed a shame to waste it all.

'Well, from what I've seen of wizards,' Dean said from somewhere right behind him. 'You seem pretty decent.' Draco huffed a small laugh at the thought of anyone like Dean calling him decent.

'Trust me, you've seen far too little of me to form an opinion,' Draco informed him. He walked off, hoping Dean wouldn't follow him. He didn't, and for some reason Draco was highly offended.

XXX

Sam was shaken awake roughly. His heart jumped into his throat, but Dean was in his face so he quickly took stock of his surroundings.

'Dean? What the hell?' It was clearly in the middle of the night. Sam and Dean had been sharing a bed so Draco could sleep in a proper one.

'Come on,' Dean said, getting up. Sam didn't need telling twice. He got dressed quickly, grabbed the duffle-bag he never unpacked, and followed Dean very quietly downstairs. Harry lay asleep on the couch. Once outside Sam breathed deeply and hurried towards the Impala. He didn't say anything until they were throwing their duffles into the trunk.

'You at least leave a note?' he asked. He didn't need to look at Dean to know he was clenching his jaw.

'I'll text Bobby at sunrise,' he said. Sam nodded and got in the passenger seat. They drove the rest of the night, the straightest route to Kansas.

XXX

Voldemort studied his face in the mirror. Such a disgusting face- well, no, that was harsh. He missed his true body, though, even the lack of nose was preferable to this. But, the muggle was a good match: weak of mind, yet he had a whiff of magic about him. Maybe his grandfather had been a squib. Voldemort still found room, though, and he was used to much tighter spaces.

The man in the mirror was dark haired and sun-tanned, which was a nice change. He was mid-forties, balding, with a full beard, and cruel eyes. He looked like he had lived a hard life, and he had, but he still retained a handsomeness grown from a sense of danger more than appearance. Voldemort liked how different it was, but he was still hoping to return to a body of his own, made for him.

Being trapped in a muggle body after so many years was frustrating beyond belief, but it was better than staying in hell. Crowley thought he could rule hell from earth. Such a pathetic little demon.

Voldemort closed his eyes, concentrating on a tickling presence.

_I can feel you, Harry._

There was a knock at the door that distracted him. He turned in his chair as it opened. Lucius poked his head in.

'My Lord.'

_Go away now, Harry._

Harry sat bolt upright in a cold sweat. The sun was streaming across his lap. He hadn't been woken up by Sam coming down for his early run. He wiped at his face and sat up, shoving the blanket away.

Bobby came in suddenly, looking agitated.

'What's happened?' Harry asked, trying to push the dream away as quickly as possible.

'Them idjits are gone, that's what,' the old man grumbled. 'I've been trying to call them for the last hour, but it keeps going to voicemail.'

'Is Draco still here?' Harry asked, feeling a spike of panic. Sam and Dean could handle themselves, but Draco was an unknown in this type of situation.

'Still sleeping upstairs, like the dead,' Bobby nodded.

'He's still on Dreamless Sleep,' Harry explained with a relieved sigh. 'It keeps you under for eight hours.' He got up and paced. 'What do we do?' he asked. Stupid Winchesters. How could they just leave him behind?

'Nothing we can do right now,' Bobby shrugged.

'If we can find out where they are, I can apparate to them,' Harry suggested. He needed to get to them.

'I'm pretty sure they've turned off the GPS in their phones,' Bobby said. Harry sighed and went back to pacing.

'Damn them,' Harry muttered.

The phone rang. Harry went still as Bobby hurried over to the phone and answered.

'You better be on your way back,' he said instead of answering. Harry watched his face as it paled. 'Where are you?' He waited for an answer and hung up.

'What?' Harry asked.

'Sam's gone,' Bobby told him and Harry felt the bottom drop of out his stomach. 'Dean's at a gas station about ten miles south of Bassett, Nebraska on the 183. Think you can get to him?' Harry didn't even answer, he just closed his eyes, gripped his wand, and focused.

It took him a while to find the place, but he managed. The gas station looked old, but well maintained. The Impala stood at the pump, the driver's door open. Dean was sitting in the driver's seat with his feet on the concrete, his head in his hands. Harry rushed over to him.

'What happened?' he demanded. Dean looked up and rose quickly.

'We stopped to refuel. Sam went to the bathroom and never came back,' Dean explained.

'Show me,' Harry demanded. Dean led the way round the back of the station to a graffiti stained door that had been kicked open. There was only one toilet and tiny sink inside. Harry could feel the magical signature, but did the usual scans, following Auror protocol in an attempt to keep calm.

'Magical residue,' Harry told Dean once he'd finished. 'Angelic or demonic, I can't be sure.'

Dean closed his eyes and swore.

'He could be anywhere,' he muttered. Harry swallowed, trying to think. What would demons or angels want with Sam? Not to kill him - they could have just left his body here. It was clear as day to Harry, though he dreaded saying it out loud. Dean was agitated, gripping his head, pacing erratically. He was like a caged animal. Harry knew the feeling, but his Auror training was preventing him from freaking out completely.

'Why would they kidnap him?' Dean asked. 'Why not just kill him?'

'You know why,' Harry said. Dean looked at him as if daring him to say it. 'He has a connection to Lucifer. We'd be stupid to ignore the possibility. Demonic or angelic, both species want the big guy free.'

'Fuck!' Dean kicked over a nearby trash can. 'How do we get him back?'

'I don't know,' Harry said. 

XXX

'You've been hiding from me,' Voldemort pointed out. The angel stopped whatever he was doing on that ridiculously big desk of his. He slowly looked up.

'I've been busy,' he said with a smile that was attempting to be charming. 'And clearly need to stop hiring demons.' Voldemort had little patience for angels, and even less for this one in particular.

'You angels, always so smug, so superior,' Voldemort commented as he took a walk around the bastard's office. It was decorated in that idiotic minimalist style muggles so often favored. The view was spectacular though, with the floor to ceiling windows. They had to be at least twenty stories up, and it wasn't a magic trick.

'If you're here for the Stone, I'm afraid I've had a better offer.'

'Oh, I know, Balthazar,' Voldemort informed him, admiring an antique globe the angel had on a side table by a very sleek pair of sofas in black leather. 'I would like to know exactly what they offered you.'

'The Apocalypse,' Balthazar answered. His face had lost all of his usual mirth.

'How odd, for I was certain I promised you the same thing.' Voldemort wandered over to the windows. Long way down. The street below was busy. London really was a beautiful city, like an ant hill, perfectly coordinated, never still. He was glad to be back in England.

'Father always told me, never trust a demon,' Balthazar quipped. Voldemort almost rolled his eyes. The things he had to deal with.

'I guess you'll just have to give me something else, to make up for it.'

'What would you prefer?' Balthazar asked sarcastically.

'Your sword.'

Balthazar laughed mockingly, but Voldemort expected that. He reached inside his suit jacket and pulled out his weapon, not letting the angel see it. He took a breath to focus. 'I'd like to increase my collection.' He spun as quick as his demonic powers allowed him. The angelic sword flew through the air, and Balthazar tried to react in time, but he hadn't expected an attack that had the potential to actually kill him. The sword pierced his chest, all the way through. He stumbled to his knees, but he wasn't dead. Voldemort moved quickly and grabbed the sword.

Before he pulled it out, he gazed into Balthazar's eyes. The angel was genuinely surprised. He had hoped to survive it all. Voldemort delighted in proving him wrong.

Balthazar gasped slightly when Voldemort pulled out the sword, but it was cut short as the sword plunged into the base of his neck, right in the killing spot. Voldemort withdrew it slowly, letting the angel fall backwards on his expensive carpet. The phantom wings fanned out, spreading across the entire length of the office.

He found Balthazar's sword in his coat pocket. It was shiny and clean compared to the one he had just used.

As he rose he heard a rumbling from outside. He looked to the window. There were dark clouds assembling over London. Angelic clouds.

XXX

Sam awoke with his head stuffed, like he had slept for twelve hours or more. His whole body felt heavy. He blinked his eyes open and saw a stained ceiling. Not that unusual for him, but the last thing he remembered was going to bed at Bobby's, and the ceiling wasn't familiar.

'Finally,' a voice said with exaggerated exasperation. Sam pushed himself up quickly and then sighed in frustration when he saw who it was. Lucifer sat on a chair, arms folded and feet on the edge of the bed.

'I'm dreaming,' Sam stated needlessly.

'Are you sure?' Lucifer asked with an arched eyebrow. Sam rolled his eyes and sat up a bit in bed, leaning against the headboard. He noticed he was wearing his regular clothes, which was weird because usually when Lucy visited him he was wearing his sleep clothes.

'What do you want?' he asked.

'What does any prisoner want?' Lucifer asked in a philosophical voice. 'To be free.'

'Well, I'm not helping you,' Sam informed him.

'Who said you have a choice?' Lucifer smirked. Sam swallowed past a iron lump in his throat. It was painful - it felt real.

'You need my permission-' he began.

'I already have it, remember? You said yes.'

'I revoke it.'

Lucifer chuckled, shaking his head as if to a child he was fond of.

'It doesn't work like that, Sammy,' he said with pity. 'As soon as I'm out, I'm going straight-' he pointed at Sam's chest - 'in there.'

'And how are you gonna break out?'

'Oh, my people are working on that. In fact, I'm counting the minutes.' Sam tensed, trying to will himself to wake up. The poorly decorated motel room didn't budge, however. Sam felt panic creep up his spine. Lucifer noticed and his smirk widened.

XXX

Lucius left the office of the Undersecretary to the Minister looking confident. Any wizard passing him might think he looked like the cat that got the cream.

He had just reached the Atrium when he felt movement. A rumble - an earthquake? It was very faint, but several people around him stopped at the same moment, so he clearly wasn't imagining it.

Another rumble shook the underground building, this time strong enough to visibly shake people. Lucius gripped his wand tightly.

The next moment there's an enormous explosion from the Atrium ceiling. The windows on the outwards facing offices were blown out as a large hole caved in. Peoples' screams were drowned by the huge chunks of rocks falling. Several fell on the statue of the wizard, centaur and house elf, crushing it completely. Lucius, being close to the lifts, managed to stay out of the debris, but many others were not so lucky.

Lucius saw them descend, like the Biblical figures of vengeance they were, minus any signs of wings. There were ten of them at least. The people who had escaped the explosion unscratched were running for the Floos. Lucius noticed several Aurors looking upwards with fear, and some turned and ran without hesitating.

Lucius pointed his wand.

'Avada Kedavra!' he cried. He couldn't imagine any other spell having much effect. Casting it inside the Ministry of Magic secured him life-time in Azkaban. The spell hit the angel and, thank Merlin, it twitched like a bird that just had its wings clipped, before falling towards the floor.

It hit with a crunch of bone and muscle, about fifteen feet from Lucius. The vessel had died with the curse, luckily. Lucius sighed in relief at the result, but his hope was cut short as the angel rose slowly, his bones popping back into place. It smirked at him.

'Crucio!' Lucius cast with as much hatred as he could. The angel stumbled to his knees, his hands covering his ears while he screamed. 

The angels were dropping to the floor all around the Atrium, grabbing survivors by the head and making their eyes shine with a white light. A group of Aurors apparated in and started firing curses all over. They hit their targets, and slowed many of them down, but soon the angels got close and killed several before the remaining fled.

Lucius saw a small boy crushed under a large rock. His mother was frantically trying to pull him free, despite the fact it was clearly a lost cause. An angel came up behind her and touched the back of her head. If not for her scream and white eyes, it looked almost as if the angel was comforting her. She dropped dead a second later.

Lucius' curse didn't last long. It felt twice as difficult to hold as normal. The angel in front of Lucius stopped screaming and rose determined, full of rage.

'You are an abomination and shall be sent to whatever hell you deserve,' it spat.

'Not today,' Lucius replied. 'Reducto,' he threw the curse. The angel was blown backwards into a large chunk of rock with a fairly impressive force, sliding down afterwards.

At least magic effected them, just not enough to kill. Slow them down, Lucius reasoned, so people could get away.

The angel raised his hand and several rocks rose into the air and flew at Lucius.

'Protego!' he stopped most of them, but didn't trust his shield to hold the largest one, so he dived to the side just in time. The screams were fewer now. People were either running or dead.

Several angels had flown into the offices and were no doubt combing the halls of the Ministry.

'Avada Kedavra!' Lucius tried again as the angel was advancing on him, but he knew he couldn't cast the spell in such quick succession without it losing some of its potency. Sure enough, the angel only stumbled, as if it was drunk, but caught itself, shaking its head to clear it. It flicked its hand in the air.

Rocks and glass came tumbling down from the offices above. Lucius rolled away, but he wasn't a young man. The angel quickly sent more glass towards him. He desperately sent them away with flicks of his wand, but the more he tried to protect himself, the more glass and debris the angel sent. He was going to lose, he realized.

'Help me, please!' a young witch, the receptionist, screamed. Lucius lost concentration for only half a second.

Several shards of glass hit him. It felt like they were pinning him to the floor. A large one pierced his chest, through his right breast pocket. He automatically tried to draw in a gasp, but it was if a cork was in his throat. He grasped at the shard, not even feeling the pain of it cutting his hand, and pulled it out.

'Apparate!' he managed, knowing the Ministry of Magic had just been lost.

He appeared on the floor at Malfoy Manor, in the foyer. He let go of the shard and let his hands flop to his sides.

'Missy!' he called, his voice barely above a whisper. His personal house-elf appeared.

'Oh no! Master Malfoy, Sir, is injured.'

'Get Snape,' he gasped. He was bleeding out too fast. Missy disappeared, and for a moment Lucius wondered if she wouldn't just leave as a final defiance. His vision was darkening.

'Lucius?' Snape's voice reached him.

'Letter,' Lucius rasped. 'In my desk. To Draco.'

'Don't speak,' Snape told him, but he could barely hear anything. It was all useless.

XXX

Dean was going out of his mind. Sam was gone, again, and being held by either demons or angels, or both, who were trying to free Lucifer and put him back in Sam.

They had been praying non-stop for Castiel since the incident. Harry hadn't popped back to Bobby's - probably out of some sense of sympathy - and they had driven in silence back. Dean knew exactly what the little Merlin was thinking though: it was all Dean's fault. If he hadn't had been restless for a case, Sam wouldn't have crossed those damn wards. And if Dean hadn't insisted on stopping for food, Sam wouldn't have left the Impala and its protection spells either.

Harry had tried to explain it away, saying someone had tampered with the spells on the car so they had probably been tracked, or they had weakened over time. He had been so focused on the wards on the house he had neglected to check the anti-tracking spells on the car. Then he had tried reasoning that angels had powers to track people even beyond his skill to negate, and he should have known that. Dean knew a sympathy speech when he heard one. Harry was trying to drag some of the blame over on him, but it was useless.

If the angels wanted Sam, they were going to get him sooner rather than later. Dean had always thought he'd die before he let that happen.

He took another sip of his scotch. Bobby was out working. He hadn't said a word when they had come back. Harry was walking the wards, again, and presumably fixing the Impala. Dean was alone with Draco, who seemed to have the same fascination with Bobby's books as Harry. He was sitting in Bobby's chair behind the desk, stroking a book as he read it like it was a brand new puppy, though his face was intent and serious.

Dean closed his eyes briefly, screaming "Castiel" inside his head. He put his glass down on the coffee table and leaned back on the couch.

There was a pop from the hallway and Dean tensed. Harry wouldn't pop in from outside. The Snape guy appeared in the doorway a moment later. Draco looked up and rose quickly.

'Severus,' he greeted as he came round the desk, but stopped suddenly. Dean knew a face bearing bad news, and Snape's was bringing death. He noted there was blood on the guy's collar. Draco had noticed it as well. 'Severus?'

'I'm sorry, Draco,' Snape said. 'Your father is dead.'

Dean rose slowly, watching Draco, whose left hand reached out and took hold of the desk to steady himself. His expression was one of stone.

'I see,' he said softly. 'How?'

'The Ministry has been attacked,' Snape informed them. 'By angels.' Dean swore under his breath. This was bad. Things were going down and Sam was missing. 'Where is Potter?'

'Outside,' Dean told him.

'I must speak with him. Draco,' Snape reached into his pocket and brought out a letter. 'Your father spent his last breath telling me where this letter was. If there is any sensitive information in it, I expect you to tell me.' When Draco didn't appear to want to move, Snape stepped forward and placed the letter on the desk. He left without another word, just a silent grip of Draco's shoulder.

Dean wasn't sure what to say. He remembered how devastated he was when John had died, but Draco's relationship with his father wasn't exactly the same.

Draco turned abruptly and went back to the chair, sitting down hard and focusing on the book with determination.

'You're not gonna read it?' Dean asked.

'No,' Draco said, eyes scanning the pages. 'You can do it and check if there's anything interesting.' Dean hesitated. He wasn't sure if Draco meant it or not, or maybe just needed someone else to read it first.

In the end it was curiosity that did him in. He took the letter and opened it carefully. The parchment felt handmade and old. The script was a beautiful cursive.

He decided to read it out loud.

' _Dear Son._ '

When Draco didn't stop him, Dean continued.

' _If you are reading this, I am dead. I am sorry to have to resort to clichés, but there are certain things you must know._

_The first is that I love you. The second is that I am proud of you._

_When you were a baby I wanted you to grow up to be greater than me, just as I consider myself to be greater than my father. I wanted you to be stronger, more powerful, smarter and more successful in everything you did._

_I have discovered, however, that when it comes to fatherhood, I am just as mine was._

_For years, I have clung to ideals and principles, discarding pragmatism, my once highest ideal, for blindness. I was so blind, I served a demon without even knowing it._

_It was not until you betrayed me that I realised you were standing for ideals greater than mine, and therefore, you have turned out exactly as I hoped._

_With my death there are several things you must know._

_I have returned to the Dark Lord's service in a small attempt to give something back. You can easily believe how well I play my part now. He does not trust me, but he enjoys having me around to remind me of what I am: a servant._

_You believe the Dark Lord wishes to free his master from Hell, but we should have realised he has no such plan. His years as a wizard has given him a taste for power, and he has no intention of freeing Lucifer. He wants the whole world for himself._

_He has also killed several angels, and has their weapons. His greatest task right now, however, is finding Potter so he can once again perform the ritual to make a body of his own, and regain all his power. He wished to harness the powers of Hell, Heaven and our own._

_One last thing you must know: the Resurrection Stone is with the angels. This angered him a great deal, for he planned to use it in some fashion to make himself more powerful, and I believe he fears Lucifer's return through its use._

_Though I do not believe in God, and we have no Heaven of our own as muggles do, I pray I am with your mother, and that we may one day see you._

_Your loving father._ '

Dean placed the letter in front of Draco, who stared down at it without seeing it.

'I'm sorry.'

Draco took the letter, slowly crumpling it in his fist, and tossed it away.

'Idiot,' he muttered. 'What a fool. An old, stupid-'

'Everyone has to discover their father isn't perfect-'

'My father was a criminal,' Draco spat. 'He mistreated everyone who worked for him, manipulated, tortured, killed. All in the name of the cause of course, all in war where rules don't apply-' Draco snapped his mouth shut abruptly.

'He was still your father,' Dean said. Draco looked up at him, eyes glassy.

'And I am just like him,' Draco said.

'No, you're not.'

'You do not know me,' Draco told him coldly. 'The only difference is that I am a coward as well.' He drew in a shakey breath. Dean could tell he was seconds away from total breakdown. He knew the feeling all too well.

'You're not,' Dean tried, but Draco wasn't hearing him.

'I told that angel I'd do anything before he had even started torturing me,' Draco confessed. 'My father suffered the Cruciatus countless times and he never revealed anything he didn't want to. Not even to his master.'

'Stop it,' Dean told him. 'Hating yourself is pointless. Your father is dead and you shouldn't feel guilty for mourning him.'

'Is that what I'm doing?' Draco asked, his voice rising as he stood.

'Yes.'

Draco ran a hand through his hair and looked away, staring out the window. Dean swallowed hard and made a decision.

'My father went to hell for me,' he said. Draco's eyes snapped back to him, but Dean couldn't hold the watery gaze so he looked at the desk. 'A century of torture and he didn't break. I got sent there and I cracked in less than half that time.' He spread his arms and shrugged. 'I started the Apocalypse.'

'The Apocalypse was inevitable,' Draco argued.

'But my dad resisted. It could have started with him, but it didn't. It was me,' Dean insisted, feeling the old shame just as deeply.

'So you're father was a great man,' Draco said, confused.

'No, no, he wasn't,' Dean said. 'He was a good man, yeah, but just because he could do stuff I can't, doesn't make me a coward. And he did a lot of shit I hate him for, but I still love him.'

'Thank you for the speech, but I hardly think our situations compare,' Draco said. He walked over to the window and Dean sighed, annoyed at having gotten nowhere with him.

'Fine,' he said. 'Just don't throw away the letter now because you're angry. Trust me, you'll regret it.' He left Draco to deal with things. The guy was bottling things up good. Dean had his own bottling up to do. He grabbed the scotch as he exited.

He stopped short in the hallway as he heard a great, heaving sob. With a sigh he turned around. What was he doing? He wanted to get face down drunk to forget for a moment that Castiel wasn't answering his payers, that Sam was gone, and that it might just all go to hell, figuratively and literally. He knew he was freaking out. Besides, Draco probably didn't want him anywhere near right now. He was a stupid muggle, after all. Yet, still he walked back inside.

Draco had one hand on the window, the other covering his eyes as he cried.

Dean was glad. It had to be healthier than how he was handling things. He put the scotch on the desk. Draco immediately started wiping at his face, making loud sniffing noises as he tried to push it all down again.

Dean felt like kicking something, or drinking the rest of the bottle, but instead of doing any of those things, he went to stand behind Draco.

'Please go away,' Draco whispered. Dean placed one hand on the blond head of hair and gently guided Draco to turn around. Draco came limply, burying his head in Dean's chest without protest. He took hold of Dean's shirt like a life-line. Dean put his arms around him. Dean's reasoning for doing this was simple: what would Sam do?

'We are gonna have ourselves a drink,' Dean told him.

'If it's that centaur's piss scotch I smell on you, no thanks,' Draco said, his voice muffled. Dean smiled.

'I think Harry has Firewhisky in his bag upstairs,' Dean told him. 'Though why'd you want to burn your throat away is a mystery.'

'A big tough American afraid of strong drink?' Draco mocked. 'I'm shocked.'

'I'll have you know I can drink you under the table,' Dean informed him, regretting the statement instantly. Draco didn't seem to be ready to come out right away, so Dean fell silent for a moment. Then they heard the front door open, and Draco pulled away like a frightened cat. He walked quickly to the desk chair and sat down before Harry entered.

Harry looked uncomfortable.

'I'm sorry for your loss,' he said to Draco, who didn't even bother reacting. Under the circumstances, Dean thought it was probably the smartest move. 'Snape's informed me of what happened at the Ministry. Thirty people dead, and the place is just a crater. The angels have made the first move.'

'So what the hell is ours gonna be?' Dean asked.

'Save Sam, stop Lucifer, kill Voldemort,' Harry said with a nod. 'In that order.'

'We need to find them all first,' Draco pointed out. Harry gave him a look of surprise, which Draco ignored. 'My father's left a few clues in his letter. There may be more at the Manor.'

'All right. It's a start.'


	16. Returning

'I can not believe you talked me into bringing a muggle to the manor,' Draco muttered as he walked through his ancient home. He knew he wasn't suppose to be prejudice at a time like this, but his skin crawled at the very thought of a muggle roaming the house. It couldn't be helped - it was in his blood. He also felt incredibly underdressed in his "t-shirt and jeans". Ugh, the very words were unfashionable.

'At least we agree on that,' Dean returned equally grumpily beside him. He was gazing around the place with deep distrust. 'I hate that beaming stuff. Feels like someone pinched a nerve.'

'Just don't touch anything,' Draco warned. He had been the one to Apparate with Dean from place to place until they had reached their destination. Standing so close to the muggle had been unappetizing to say the least. The smell had been powerfully… musky.

'Afraid I'll break something?' Dean asked as they crossed the large salon. Draco called it the blue room, where he had played hide and seek with his mother as a child, and the occasional house elf.

'I'm afraid you'll be cursed,' Draco informed him curtly. He glanced behind with a look of warning. 'Things here don't take kindly to muggles touching them.'

'Pureblood traditions at their finest,' Potter muttered. Draco stopped for a beat, but then decided to ignore it. Who cared what Potter thought anyway. He continued towards his father's study.

'If Severus knew we were here he would be very displeased,' he commented.

'Snape doesn't have to know. Besides, you're the only one who can really do a proper search.'

'I won't argue with that.'

They entered his father's study, and Draco stopped for a moment to take it all in. It looked like he had left for work in a hurry. Wasn't it just a short while ago Draco had been sitting there going about his own work? And yet now he felt like the child again sneaking in while his father was gone.

As he approached the desk, he realized the papers strewn across it were some of his own correspondence. Many of them he knew he had put away before going to the Ministry that morning when… he pushed the image of the angel from his mind.

'It appears my father was looking into my activities while I was gone,' he said as he looked through it all. Potter was waving his wand about, probably trying to ascertain if there was anything off about the magics in the room - if demons or angels had been here. It was unlikely he would find anything, considering Malfoy Manor's high concentration of magic.

Dean was just watching, as he had a tendency to do. Draco found it highly distracting.

'There's a foreign magical presence here,' Potter said as he waved his wand over the sofa by the fireplace.

'How on earth can you tell?' Draco asked, surprised. Potter just shrugged in response and continued his scanning. Draco rolled his eyes: typical of Potter to show off his magical strength.

'There isn't anything from my father here,' Draco concluded. He sighed. 'And I doubt demons like to keep notes on their activities.'

'What about the dungeons?' Potter asked.

'You have a dungeon?' Dean looked a mixture of disturbed and intrigued.

'We have a basement,' Draco corrected. 'Castles have dungeons.'

'I don't know, this place looks pretty castle-ly to me,' Dean said, looking pointedly up at the elaborately painted ceiling.

Just then, as if in answer to Dean's comment, they heard a yell, coming unmistakably from below them. They all paused and listened. After about five seconds it came again.

'Let's go,' Draco said reluctantly. He didn't like the thought of someone being here alone, but from the tone of the yell, he knew it was coming from a prisoner, and gauging from the volume, it wasn't a regular human.

XXX

The dungeon - 'Basement,' Draco had corrected - was pretty much as you'd expect of a manor owned by wizards. The foundations of the house must have been a lot older than the above structure. The whole place felt ancient, older than anything Dean had ever set foot in.

The air seemed to pull close to them as they descended. It wasn't long before the stank of sweat, blood and other bodily fluids reached their nostrils. Draco waved his wand and the smell disappeared, but Dean could still feel it, lingering just outside their personal space.

After a long corridor there was a large storage room. Draco led the way through a door that opened by pulling on a torch. Dean would have made some sarcastic comment about that, but he wasn't in the mood.

Inside there was a small circular room with three doors, all low and rounded at their tops, with a small window of bars on each. They reached to Dean's shoulders.

There could be no doubt of where they needed to go - the middle room was the only one with a light inside.

Draco opened it with a wand wave and they all stepped inside.

There was a large demon trap painted on the floor. A demon sat tied to a chair in the middle. To the right was a table filled with jugs of what Dean assumed was holy water and salt, along with several trinkets: a few crosses, charms and magical stuff he couldn't name. The floor was earthen, and the wall ancient rough stones, with torches flickering as new air rushed in.

'Finally,' the demon sighed. He was a middle-aged man with dark hair and several days worth of stubble. He looked like a farmer by his clothes.

'Where is the wizard who captured you?' Harry demanded, stepping close, but not entering the trap.

'Wouldn't you like to know,' the demon replied, bored.

'Why was he keeping you here?'

'I gave him what he wanted to know,' the demon said. He leaned his head back. 'Bastard promised to kill me after.'

'We promise to give you what you want,' Dean said. He knew what worked with these bastards and didn't really feel like waiting until Harry caught on. 'Just tell us everything, and I'll let you off easy.'

'Easy? From Dean Winchester? Ha, that's a laugh.' At Dean's look he nodded. 'Oh, yes, I know you. I'd recognize that mug anywhere.'

'So, then you know what's at stake,' Dean said, coming into the trap. He slowly pulled out the knife. 'Tell us quick and I'll send you back home.' The demon eyed the knife.

'I was working for Balthazar.'

'Why?'

'Because unlike certain wizard-fucking scum, the angel actually wants to get the show on the road!' the demon hissed.

'But you spilled the beans easily enough,' Dean surmised. The demon looked away, tugging uselessly at his restraints. 'What else did you tell him?'

'Fuck off. Kill me, exorcise me, I don't care, just as long as I get out of this place,' the demon mumbled. Dean sighed. So that was how it was gonna be. He looked at Harry, then his eyes flitted over to Draco. The wizards' eyes held their judgments, but he didn't have the luxury to care. He had to focus on Sam at all costs.

'Could you leave?' he asked tightly.

'What are you going to do?' Harry asked.

'You don't wanna know. Just get out, will ya? I prefer to work alone.' Dean hated himself, but that was nothing new. The trepidation in Draco's eyes stung harder than he had anticipated. Harry's righteous look was expected, then he sighed and seemed to accept it.

'Be quick,' he said, turned and left. Draco hurried after. Dean turned back to the demon, who now wore a look that was far from indifferent.

'Sorry, but this might take a while,' Dean said with a smirk that was completely fake, but he was good at faking that particular smirk.

XXX

The screams were pure agony to listen to. Harry couldn't imagine any creature making such a sound. He had made a few horrible ones in his day, but he hadn't had to hear himself. He imagined Dean in hell, and shuddered.

Suddenly, the screams disappeared and the door burst open. Dean stepped out.

'I know where they are,' he said.

'Well, that was effective,' Draco commented with fake nonchalance. Dean sent him a look. 'Let's get upstairs. The magicks down here mess with apparition.' He lead the way back up without even bothering to suggest they get rid of the body.

Once back upstairs Dean turned to them and explained.

'Balthazar gave the Stone to Uriel.'

'Great, another angel,' Draco said.

'You don't know the half of it,' Dean told him. 'Uriel is the number one of fan of the apocalypse, which means-'

'He's going to use it to resurrect Lucifer,' Harry concluded. Dean nodded grimly.

'We need to get back stateside right now.'

'Where?'

'To the entrance to Lucifer's cage, where we threw him in. I'd bet the world that's where they've got Sam.'

'Let's go then,' Harry said. He looked to Draco, who seemed disturbed. 'You coming?'

'What else am I going to do?' he asked, his old sarcasm returning. Harry ignored it. 'I'm sending a message to Severus, though.'

'Do that, but we can't wait for him. Same route back across,' Harry told him. 'Take Dean. I can follow you easily enough.'

Draco looked even more disturbed at that, but he obediently stepped up to Dean and took his arm. Dean shuffled forward awkwardly and the two disappeared with a pained pop. Harry followed the magical signal.

XXX

Dean felt the most disturbing sense of deja vu. He was missing the Impala, but the field looked the same. The sun was shining through a light sheen of cloud cover. Harry made a pop when he appeared and they all exchanged a glance before Dean took the lead.

He saw Uriel first and picked up the pace. When he spotted Sam on the ground, lying exactly on the spot the hole had opened, he started running. He stopped short just nine feet of his brother when Uriel held up a hand. In his other he was clutching something.

'Easy there, Dean,' Uriel said. 'You're far too late,' he smirked. Harry and Draco came forward and stopped next to Dean. The angel looked them over. 'Thanks for the loan,' he said, holding up what was in his hand. It was smaller than Dean had expected. It looked like a gem of some sort.

'What did you do?' he demanded, hoping the angel was bluffing. Suddenly, he spotted a shape in the grass some distance behind Uriel. It was the unmistakable color of a trench-coat. 'Cas?'

'Finally, we are back on schedule,' Uriel announced, and Dean realized Sam was stirring. He tensed. Harry and Draco had their wands out. Dean silently sent up one last tiny, fruitless prayer as Sam's eyes snapped open, but they weren't Sam's anymore.

Slowly, Lucifer rose as if getting used to his body. When he reached his full height he took a deep breath before gazing at Uriel.

'Thank you for freeing me,' he said.

'I am glad to have fulfilled my duty,' Uriel replied with a nod. 'Now that the other Winchester has predictably shown up, we can get Michael too.'

'Never,' Dean spat, causing Lucifer's attention to shift to him.

'Still stubborn,' he murmured as if disappointed in a child. Without looking back at Uriel he said, 'Your services will no longer be required.' The angel looked surprised, then angry for about half a second before he exploded like Cas had the last time. Dean, Harry and Draco all took half a step back at the explosion while Lucifer studied the hand he had used to snap him out of existence. He had been testing his powers, Dean realised. Uriel was now a puddle. Sam's face smirked at their display of fear.

'Let him go you fucking coward,' Dean swore. Harry raised his wand and looked about to cast a spell. Dean held up a hand to stop him. They didn't know how powerful Lucifer was compared to a wizard.

'Harry Potter,' Lucifer drawled, putting on a slight English lilt to his voice. He smiled. 'Sam's very insistent I not harm you. He's all a twitter in my head about you, and you did do me a service.'

'What service?'

'You sent Voldemort back to hell, of course. He was getting far too full of himself.' He looked back to Dean. 'Your little Cas is alive, if you were wondering. In fact, I'm willing to let all of you live, if you just say that one little word.'

'No,' Dean gritted out. Their lives weren't worth the world.

'Accio Stone!' Harry suddenly cried. The stone shot out from the remnants of Uriel. Harry had already grabbed Dean's arm with one hand as the stone shot into his other. Before Dean could even yell, he was being squeezed tight.

He collapsed on his hands and knees when he was released. There was gravel underneath him, and the unmistakable smell of motor-oil and gas. He heard a second pop and hoped it was Draco.

'You could warn people!' Draco screeched. 'I damn near had a heart attack!'

'I couldn't risk it, but I knew you were quick enough.'

'And what if my reflexes weren't as good?' Draco snapped. Dean stayed on the ground, listening to them bickering.

'You were perfectly capable. If you think your reflexes are slower than mine, does that mean you'll admit I'm the better seeker?'

'Don't make this about Quiddith!'

Dean wanted to scream at them to shut up. They had just left Sam with Lucifer in control, and Cas unconscious. The Apocalypse was back on, and they were arguing about… he didn't even know.

'I'll make it about whatever I damn well please!' Harry's shout echoed around the junkyard, and Dean realized Harry wasn't really yelling about reflexes. He pushed himself up just as Harry stormed off, muttering about reinforcing the wards.

Draco looked uncomfortable, and Dean didn't blame him. His grey eyes shone as he looked at Dean, who had to look away.

'My condolences on your brother,' he murmured.

'He's not dead,' Dean spat, harsher than he had intended. He stomped off for fear he might punch the bastard. Bobby was standing on the porch, looking grim. Dean didn't need to say much, but he managed to get the important bit out before he pushed past him.

'Lucifer's out.'

XXX

The owners of the apartment were lying dead in their beds. Crowley hadn't felt like having them possessed. He liked them there, serene-looking, as if they were still waiting for the morning.

The city shone underneath him. He quite liked the penthouse. New York, the greatest city in the world, held much amusement for the king of hell.

'My liege,' a mocking voice purred. Crowley tensed. He wondered how many of his staff were dead, and how many were fled, or worse, converted. It was so hard to find good help these days.

'Your Majesty will do just fine,' he managed quite casually as he turned away from the window. By the door - reinforced with both steel and magic - stood a dear old friend indeed.

'Your Majesty,' Voldemort corrected sarcastically with a small smirk. His meat-suit wasn't what Crowley had expected. For himself, he always picked suits that reminded him of what he pictured himself as having been when he had been human. Not for any sentimental reasons, he just liked looking himself.

Voldemort was wearing a young man. He looked like an Englishman, and a boxer. His hair was brown and short, far from vain. The face wasn't particularly handsome or ugly, but Crowley could see a bit of premature saggy skin, as if the man had lost a lot of weight. He wore a nice suit that Crowley suspected the owner of the body wouldn't have been caught dead in. It was light gray, very modern, with a matching vest underneath and a pink shirt. He looked every bit the modern gentleman, though his eyes betrayed him. They weren't black like any old demon, nor the sunny yellow of Azazel, but rather a deep red.

Crowley preferred black for himself, both in eye and clothes, and he felt himself sneering as he looked Voldemort over.

'To what do I owe this pleasure?' Crowley asked. He raised his glass of Scotch in a sarcastic toast.

'A business proposition,' Voldemort said.

'Let me guess, you're here to relieve me of my job?' Crowley guessed. He took a sip to show his disinterest.

'You don't have a job,' Voldemort said. 'You have a very small army that will be easily crushed in due time.'

'Yes, I've noticed all the changes you've made in hell recently- oh, no, wait, those were my ideas,' Crowley smirked.

'Fashion statements, if that,' Voldemort said. Crowley kept in his snort. 'You never did know how to appreciate traditions.'

'Says the demon who betrayed his own kind?'

'Tradition and progress should always go hand in hand,' Voldemort spread his arms as if he epitomized the idea of both and Crowley did snort at that.

'My new hell is progress, and it doesn't need your kind of mutation. Although, you don't look much different right now. What's the matter? Can't find a fat enough wizard to fit yourself into?'

'I grow bored with this conversation,' Voldemort drawled. 'Help me kill Lucifer and you will live a bit longer.' Crowley laughed. It was just too funny. Oh, how he loved the crazy world they lived in.

'You want to kill Lucifer,' he chuckled. 'With what? The rings are gone, God knows where.'

'With enough souls we can destroy him,' Voldemort explained. He seemed unaffected by Crowley's derision.

'And after we have achieved this great feat?'

'We go back to our real fight.'

'You want me to exchange one apocalypse for another?'

'I suppose it all depends on which one you think you can win.' Voldemort lifted an interested eyebrow at him.

'You are, as usual, forgetting one important factor. Always underestimating things, aren't you?' Crowley shook his head in mock pity.

'And what would that be?' Voldemort asked, bored.

'Michael,' Crowley said simply, taking another sip. 'Lucifer might get into Sam, but he needs someone to fight. If his focus is all on us, we'll not last the night.'

'Uriel will resurrect them both-' Voldemort began.

'But not the vessel,' Crowley corrected. 'Adam's body, soul- whatever is left of him - is in unrecognizable pieces after all that time with the brothers. Can you imagine? Sam was strong, and he was out after a few weeks, but Adam? Not even a wizard trinket could pull that hat trick.'

'Don't be so sure,' Voldemort warned him.

'Well, I'm afraid I can't make a commitment without that detail being sorted out. If you see Michael feel free to stop by my court again, but until then: fuck off.'

'This is a one time offer.' When Crowley didn't reply, Voldemort sighed. 'Fine, wear your new robes and stomp about in all your pomp and circumstance, but mark my words: I will have this world, and when I do, there won't be any souls going down your way.'

Crowley watched him leave impassively, drank the rest of his scotch, and went to see how many of his staff were left. It turned out, they were all fled. Cowards.

XXX

Dean paced through the house, going from room to room. His face reminded Draco of how muggles looked in picture books about the burning times.

Draco wondered if his thoughts were equally disturbing. He wasn't sure if he wanted to find out, but he felt himself inexplicably drawn to the muggle. Dean was angry when he should be mourning. Potter as well, though Draco couldn't understand how Potter would be so upset. How well did he know Sam anyway?

'What are you staring at?'

Draco jumped slightly at the abrupt outburst. Dean had stopped pacing.

'I wasn't-'

'Well, then get out.' Dean resumed his pacing.

'Where should I go?'

'Anywhere. Back to your castle.'

'It's not a castle-'

Dean stopped again and came up to him, getting in his personal space. Draco pressed himself up against the wall. The smell of muggle engines and sweat tickled his nostrils as he watched Dean's flair.

'The world's about to end. Go home. Stay alive as long as you can or care to.'

'I do not take orders from you,' Dean hissed. 'For your information I have fought a war before.'

'Not like this one. Nothing will be like this one.'

'I'm well aware of the likely outcome, but if you think so little of me that you picture me having tea in the drawing room while the flames reach the Manor's front steps, you-' Draco paused to take a breath. He had been insulted countless times, but it had never felt like this. It distressed him. 'I am NOT a coward,' he said steadily. He had never said those words before. In fact, he had repeated the opposite sentiment quite a few times, mostly in the most ashamed recesses of his mind. Dean's face softened, and it seemed Draco didn't mind his closeness when the angry lines were gone. Even the stubble seemed less harsh.

'I know you're not a coward. I didn't mean it like that,' Dean said, his voice incredibly soft and rough at the same time. 'I just don't want to watch you die.'

'We all die, eventually,' Draco said. He couldn't look Dean in the eye. What on earth did he mean by that silly sentiment anyway? He was acting odder than usual.

'Sam's gone, Cas is MIA and every bad guy is officially in the game,' Dean pointed out unhelpfully. 'We can't save the world twice. Our luck's run out. It's over.'

'Well, a Malfoy always goes out with a bang,' Draco managed. His throat felt raw, as if he had been screaming. 'So, if you want to see the show, you best keep me around.'

Dean smiled, sort of, at that, and nodded minutely. He finally realized how close he had been standing and stepped back. Draco relaxed and pushed himself away from the wall slightly. Dean looked about to apologize when the body of a man suddenly dropped onto the couch. Dean spun around at the sound.

'Cas,' he said as he rushed over. The angel looked exhausted. Dean knelt by his side. Bobby appeared, having heard Dean's hell no doubt. 'Cas? Cas!' Dean felt the angel's face. He appeared to be unconscious, but then his eyes opened, only to roll back into his skull. 'Get Harry,' Dean told him and Draco nodded.

Luckily, Harry was on his way inside so it didn't take long. He took Dean's place and waved a few diagnostic spells over him. Draco didn't see how he could produce any useful results, but by some miracle he did. Dehydration, shock and magical overload. Nothing but rest and fluids could fix those.

'He needs water and rest, as far as I can tell,' Potter explained to the muggles.

'But he's gonna be okay?' Dean wanted clarified.

'I'm no angel doctor,' Potter excused himself, 'but as far as I can tell, he's just exhausted.' Dean nodded and went to fetch the water. They managed to rouse the angel enough to drink a little.

'Cas?' Dean repeated.

'He's waiting,' the angel breathed hoarsely. 'He's waiting outside the wards, as a courtesy he said… He followed me. I'm sorry,' Cas whispered. Potter swore softly at all his work being useless against the angels.

'It's okay, I'll go,' Dean told him.

'No, not you,' Cas whispered. He looked at Potter. 'Him.'

'Why me?' Potter asked, but the angel had fallen unconscious again. Potter, Dean and Bobby exchanged several looks. Draco knew the outcome easily enough.

'I'm going,' Potter announced.

'I'm coming with you.'

'You'll just anger him,' Potter pointed out. 'We can't defeat him now.' Dean looked like he might grind through his teeth in a matter of minutes, but nodded tightly all the same. 'I need a word with you in private before I leave.' Draco watched Dean and Harry disappear into the hallway, wondering what sort of goodbyes they were saying. He didn't bother trying to listen in so his gaze wandered over to the angel.

Castiel - that was his full name Draco believed - lay peacefully. Draco studied him and felt a slight understanding dawn. Perhaps it was the sort of thing that happened to a man when faced with the end of all things. Castiel was an angel fighting with muggles. Perhaps they weren't so completely different. He heard Dean swear loudly and glanced up. Dean came out of the hallway and gave him such an odd look Draco had no hope of deciphering it.

Not so different - what a terrifying thought - but at least they would all die the same.

XXX

Harry walked slowly to the edge of the wards in the middle of the field behind Bobby's. Lucifer was waiting for him. He was smiling slightly and looked utterly at ease. It made Harry sick to his stomach, but he kept his face as impassive as possible, though he didn't think he was succeeding very well.

'Harry Potter,' Lucifer greeted. Hearing Sam's voice so altered made the hair on the back of his neck stand up, but he nodded in greeting.

'Lucifer.'

'A pleasure.'

'I can't say the same.'

'Understandable,' Lucifer assured him. 'Sam's very worried about you. In fact, he asked me to tell you not to worry about him.'

'I won't, then.' Lucifer smiled, showing he knew Harry was lying. Harry had his wand out, and Lucifer gave it a look, but didn't mention it. 'Sam's very impressed by you. He's full of praise for your accomplishments.'

'I find it hard to believe you've spent your time together talking about me,' Harry commented.

'Oh, you'd be surprised,' Lucifer said. He looked off towards the house, as if they were just enjoying a Sunday stroll and he was admiring the bloody scenery. Harry knew it was all just to get at him. 'After all, you are the Chosen One, just like Sammy.'

'I was.'

'Oh, you still are, and you know it,' Lucifer looked him straight in the eye. Harry resisted the urge to look away. Sam's face looked nothing like the young man Harry cared about. 'I'm not the only one who's getting an encore.'

'What do you want from me?' Harry was tired of these kinds of conversations. What was it about evil bastards and their need for mock-politeness?

'I want you to repeat your greatest feat.'

'You want me to kill Voldemort? Again?' At Lucifer's nod, Harry shook his head in confusion. 'Why can't you do it?'

'I will, but I just need you to… set the stage, so to speak.'

'Bait,' Harry guessed. 'Voldemort daren't come a near you with a hundred mile pole, but he wants me more than ever.'

'Five points to… Griffin-something or other,' Lucifer smiled.

'No,' Harry told him. If Lucifer wanted it, it had to be bad, right?

'I'd be willing to trade…' Lucifer's smile was, in a word, devilish.

'With what? You'll hold off tearing the world apart if I get rid of your-' Harry paused. 'You're afraid of him,' he suddenly guessed. 'You're afraid of what he might become.'

'Demons, wizards or people, you're all base creatures,' Lucifer dismissed.

'All right... Give me Sam back after we've killed him.' Harry knew he was never going to get that deal, but he wanted to see Lucifer's reaction.

'Sorry, no can do, Sammy and me are BFFs now,' Lucifer mocked. When Harry made no further offer, he sighed. 'Fine, if you want your world to be the first to burn, be my guest.' He half-turned away from Harry, and looked about ready to pop off.

'Let me speak to him!' Harry hadn't meant to ask, but the words tumbled out of him.

'You are speaking to him. He can hear you loud and clear.'

'You know what I mean.' He gripped his wand tighter. Lucifer eyed him, then smiled sweetly. He closed his eyes and Harry held his breath. When they opened again, Sam stared back. He let out a breath, his whole body shaking violently a few times as he stumbled forward. Harry rushed to him in case he fell, and Sam's large hands gripped him by the shoulders.

'Harry, do as he says,' Sam breathed.

'What?' Harry shook his head. Sam nodded.

'He is afraid of Voldemort, and with good-' Sam squeezed his eyes shut, and Harry feared the moment was gone before it could begin, but it was still Sam. 'You have to kill him.'

'I know that,' Harry snapped. He didn't want to waste the moment on arguing or planning. He knew he should- the world might depend on it, but right then he couldn't be the Chosen One. Sam sighed and they shared an understanding.

Harry reached up and kissed him before Lucifer could snatch him away. The kiss was gentle, slowly building in passion, before turning hard in an instant. Harry tried to pull away, but Sam held his face in a vice-like grip. Sam's tongue went from delicious to disgusting. Harry stuck his wand in the man's gut and focused his power.

Lucifer was blasted backwards with great force. He landed on his back at least twenty feet away. Harry hadn't known what to expect when it came to how his magic affected a powerful angel like Lucifer. In fact, he hadn't ever used proper offensive spells on an angel before. He was, in a word, pleasantly shocked. It was his moment of distraction that became his undoing, for Lucifer didn't spare a second to ponder Harry's power.

He immediately reached out a hand for Harry with a look of boiling anger.

Harry tried to react. 'Prote-' He felt the angelic force hit him like a wall, destroying the shield that had only half-formed. He couldn't breathe. He felt it surround him, trying to burrow inside.

Lucifer was advancing slowly, his hand slowly clenching as if he had a hand around Harry's neck. Only it felt like it was around all of him.

His vision was blurring. He raised his wand again.

'A… va…' but he didn't have any breath left in him. He felt his knees buckle.

'The arrogance of your kind never ceases to amaze me,' Lucifer murmured as he stood over him. Harry finally blacked out.


	17. Death's Hallows

Harry felt kisses peppering his face. Sweet kisses only someone who was intimately familiar with his face and person would give. The only problem was that Harry had never in his life known anyone who was that familiar with him.

He was in a car as well, he could feel the bumps in the road.

'Harry,' Sam's voice whispered in his ear after a soft little nibble.

'Sam?' Harry's head felt full.

'I'm here,' Sam soothed, but it sounded wrong. Harry opened his eyes and reared back, knocking his head hard into the window.

'Ow!'

Lucifer chuckled. He was wearing a nice suit of pale gray in a modern cut that made him seem even longer. He had a black shirt on with matching tie, and his smile was amused. 'I don't usually enjoy games like that, but with you it's just irresistible.'

'Where are we?' Harry asked just as the car stopped. The windows were tinted to such a degree it was difficult to see.

'Somewhere Voldemort is sure to find you.' Lucifer moved closer and Harry pressed himself into the door. Lucifer's face was inches from his, one arm reaching...

Harry nearly fell out of the car when Lucifer abruptly opened the door. Scrambling out, Harry righted himself while ignoring Lucifer's mocking laughter. He gazed up at the Leaky Cauldron.

'Why here?' Harry asked as Lucifer came to stand beside him.

'Because his spies are here. Just remember, I have your wand and if you try to escape I will break it out of spite and kill everyone you have even the slightest acquaintance with.' 

Harry swallowed, feeling naked. Lucifer gave him a push, but all Harry could give in return was an annoyed look before doing as he was bid.

The Leaky was empty. Utterly empty. The wall Harry had entered countless times was blasted through. Beyond lay what had once been a vibrant street. Now it was more dead than it had ever been, even during the worst days of Voldemort.

Buildings had crumbled, debris littered the streets. Whole alleys were gone, and the people who were left were digging, very slowly and gently, some even with their hands. Harry could hear cries of pain. Far off down the street Gringott's was tilted precariously the wrong way. It had always looked a little wobbly, but now a great crack had split its facade and Harry was sure a puff of wind would knock it down completely.

'This is your kind's doing,' he said.

'Don't blame me,' Lucifer said. 'I've been in a cage.'

'Dear Merlin,' Harry breathed, feeling sick to his stomach as he took in the dead. He couldn't even help them properly without a wand. He didn't know where to begin. Lucifer urged him on so he walked slowly. Some people glanced at him, but it was as if their eyes saw straight through him. 'How can angels justify this? We haven't done anything to them!'

'This was a preemptive strike,' Lucifer observed. 'Long overdue.'

'Why?' Harry demanded.

'Because you are an abomination,' Lucifer explained, as if it was the most natural thing in the world.

'And God wants us dead?'

'We want you dead,' Lucifer corrected. 'Raphael wants you dead. Uriel wants you tortured and then dead, and I would really enjoy it if I could send you to hell, but Voldemort failed that task.'

Harry shook his head. 'If the world was made by your logic then God created all of us!'

'No.'

Harry didn't care to listen, and spun to face Lucifer.

'All of us exist by God's permission, so why are we the unnatural ones? Our magic comes from the earth! Your God's earth! It has rules and theorems and principles. If anything you're the supernatural ones!'

Lucifer's hand shot out and squeezed Harry's throat tight, almost lifting him up off his feet with no effort at all.

'You are a talking monkey who just happened to find a very fancy stick,' the devil growled. 'You seduced one of my best into becoming an abomination who thinks he can rule you all. And the best part?' he asked sarcastically. 'You don't even have the decency to go to hell when you die.'

'Harry?!' Lucifer looked up, but the tight grip on Harry's throat prevented the wizard from doing the same. He recognized the voice instantly however: Ron.

'Get away!' Harry gasped. 'Go!' Lucifer let go, and Harry dropped to the ground hard, gasping.

'Gone on,' Lucifer urged. 'Give it your best shot.' Harry looked up to see Ron about thirty feet away, his wand out.

'Don't!' Harry cried. Lucifer kicked him. Ron shot out a spell, but it hit a pile of rubble far behind Harry.

Lucifer had disappeared. Harry spun around this way and that, still on his knees, waiting for an attack at any moment, but none came.

'Harry!' Ron cried again, running as best he could over the debris.

'No, Ron!' Harry held up a hand and Ron stopped short. Harry slowly rose to his feet. He could feel the people in the few shops that were still capable of concealing them. 'Ron, is Hermione with you?'

'She was,' Ron cried, looking around. 'We were helping find survivors. She's-'

He was interrupted by his whole body being flung like a rag doll across the street. Harry could do nothing as his best friend shot through a shop window- luckily already broken - and disappeared inside with a great crash.

Voldemort stood by the entrance to the Alley. Harry didn't recognize him, but he certainly felt it in his scar.

'Hello, old friend,' Voldemort greeted. Harry got to his feet, clenching both his fists for lack of a wand to grip. Lucifer better show up right now, he thought.

'Hello, Voldemort,' Harry greeted.

'What, no Tom anymore, Harry?'

'Tom was an innocent boy,' Harry spat. 'I'll not call you that ever again.'

'Tom and I were one,' Voldemort argued. 'It was a glorious union. It healed him.'

'You really are properly mad, aren't you?'

'Oh, I'm better than that. Beyond madness lies salvation.' He cocked his head to the side. 'Where's your wand, Harry?'

'I lost it,' Harry said.

'No matter, we'll get a much better one very soon, won't we?'

'WE won't be doing anything.' Voldemort smiled, and Harry felt the first true shadows of despair creep into him. Voldemort wasn't killing him. He had known what was coming, but a part of him had always hoped-

'Playtime is over,' a voice boomed over them. Lucifer appeared right between them. 'Daddy's home.'

'Underestimating,' Voldemort spat. 'Always underestimating!' He opened his mouth wide and black smoke billowed out. It rose into the air and started swirling. Lucifer stood his ground, staring up at the spectacle with calculating eyes. It concentrated itself above Harry, swirling closer and closer. Lucifer held out a hand, about to do something, but Harry never found out what it was.

Two things happened at once. Several demons rose from the rubble, some of their meatsuits being brutally torn from the debris, and all touched their palms to stones which now revealed anti-angelic spells. All of them combined surrounded Lucifer with a blinding white light. He screamed, trying to resist, but they were too many.

As the same time, Harry could not see the white light, for his whole body was consumed by blackness. It forced itself down his throat. At first it filled him too quickly, and he could feel his magic rebel against the intrusion, but then a part of his mind seemed to open it all up, and the blackness flowed smooth like a meandering river into him. It felt like it took an age, but there was no resistance.

Finally, he released control completely, and was left in the dark.

XXX

'Are you ready?' Snape asked. Dean tried not to look disgusted when he looked at the wizard, but the man just looked too much like the type of wizard who melted when you splashed them with water. Draco stood tense a few feet behind him. At least this Snape had the right idea there - protecting Draco. He had shown up almost immediately after Harry had left, thanks to Draco's message. He wasn't please with Harry's actions, to put it as mildly as possible.

'Ready as I'll ever be,' Dean replied with the only line he could. Cas stood on the other side of their little ritual table. He had not been too keen on the whole idea, but it had been Harry's last instruction, so here they were.

Getting the tomb open had been the hardest part. Snape had been pretty stubborn about them not being able to crack the tomb. When Harry had put The Wand, as Dean referred to it in his head, back inside the tomb of his former teacher or principal, he had put a powerful lock on it. And according to Snape, Harry Potter was currently the most powerful wizard alive. Kind of hard to believe when you looked at him, but if there was one thing that was true in any of their worlds, it was that appearances were almost always deceiving.

Castiel had cracked it, literally, with his last bit of strength. The locking spell hadn't been prepared for an angel, so he had finally got it out after a lot of huffing and puffing. Cas now looked at death's door, but none of them were far behind him, considering the circumstances.

'Then do it.' Bobby did the incantation since he was best with the pronunciation. Dean did the ritual stuff at the right moments. It was times like these it was important to appreciate irony: two normals were currently doing a magical ritual that neither of the wizards or the angel could do, apparently. He was pretty close to putting this on top on his personal weirdness scale.

To their left was a bigass symbol painted on the ballroom floor - Draco hadn't been too happy about that, but they all had to make sacrifices. He and Snape had been taking down the wards. Not the best thing to do, some would say, but when you want visitors you had to leave the door open.

The room started shaking as Bobby raised his voice for the final few words. Dean didn't send up a prayer this time, he just waited.

'I do not like being called like a dog on a leash, Dean Winchester,' came a voice.

XXX

The light faded and the Alley fell silent. The demons seemed unsure if they were allowed to stare at the young man standing very still in the middle of the ruined street. They glanced fleetingly at each other, poised for their new orders.

When the young man's eyes opened, they were red. His chest heaved as he took a great breath and let out an enormous sigh.

'Power,' he breathed. 'So much power.' A laugh bubbled out of him, and he touched his lips, then seemed to realized what he had done and studied the hand. 'Perfection.' He walked towards one of the shops, ignoring the demons for now, and climbed through the shop window. He found Ron Weasley badly hurt lying half buried in shelves and cauldrons.

He stirred when he heard footsteps and managed to turn his head enough to look up.

'Harry…' he groaned.

'Harry's gone away for a while,' Voldemort replied. He bent down and took Ron's wand from his limp fingers. 'He says hello, though.' Pointing the wand between Ron Weasley's eyes, he smiled wickedly before casting, 'Avada Kedavra.'

The green light hit Ron, and he closed his eyes rather peacefully. Voldemort's muscles, however, seized up immediately. He thrashed about, his hands clutching his head. Several demons were watching through the shop window as their leader wrestled for control.

'Shut up!' Voldemort suddenly screamed, and he stilled. Straightening, he brushed some dust from his shirt and righted his glasses, then realized he didn't need them and threw them away. 'There, that's better. All better.' He finally noticed all the demons staring at him. 'Gather any bodies you find and make sure you get their wands!' he snapped. The demons hurried to obey. One remained, and Voldemort spread his arms wide as if to ask "what do you think?", though the demon made no reply. 'We need the Resurrection Stone,' he said. 'Once it is in our hands, you too can share in this miraculous union.'

'If Lucifer walks free, surely he has it,' the demon argued.

'Not necessarily,' Voldemort mused. He walked out of the shop, testing his legs and arms constantly and watching the progress of his minions. 'He would not care much for a wizard's trinket. Or, rather, what he thinks is a wizard's trinket, now that he is free.' He stopped when he was in the middle of the street and looked up at the tranquil sky.

'First things first.' He lifted Ron Weasley's wand and studied it. 'I need a proper wand.'

With a loud pop that sizzled a little at the end, Voldemort disapparated.

XXX

'I do not like being called like a dog on a leash, Dean Winchester.'

'Right, well, this isn't a call- I mean, we've got something for you,' Dean explained, trying not to stutter, but man, Death creeped him out more than anyone on heaven, earth or in hell. 'Something that belongs to you, and we've willing to give them to you… if you help us.' He really hoped Harry had been right about Death's three missing "hallows".

Death looked just as he had the last time Dean had seen him: the same black suit to go with his hair, pale wrinkled skin and eyes that just weren't really eyes, more like holes. Dean fought the goosebumps. Snape and Draco remained very still, while Castiel and Bobby glanced at each other. Death fixed Dean with a stare that chilled him to the bone.

'You call me to a wizard's house and place restrictions on the return of my own stolen property?' he asked archly. Dean swallowed, but there was no moisture in his mouth. He nodded.

'Yeah, that's about the size of it.'

Slowly, Death's gaze traveled across the room, pausing on each person. Draco turned away immediately, Snape bore the gaze, but was pale by the end, while Bobby and Cas tried and failed.

'You have the items here?'

'Please, we're not that stupid,' Dean said, and Death's stare was on him in an instant. 'I mean, they're near, but you're not getting them till you promise.'

'Let us hear your demands then,' Death said, sounding bored. Dean glanced at the others, but it was clear he was doing all the talking on this one.

'Help us defeat them, both of them. Lucifer and Voldemort.'

'And save your friend and brother I suppose?'

Dean nodded.

Death seemed to consider it, tilting his head a little in innocent contemplation. Bobby suddenly gripped his chest with a groan and fell to the floor. Cas knelt down, holding him.

'He's dying,' Cas said.

'Stop it!' Dean roared, almost charging the bastard. Death looked at Draco, who's hand went to his throat, mouth opening in a failed gasp. Snape took hold of him, waving his wand at the obstruction, but he couldn't breathe.

'I said stop it!' Dean shouted again, then swore under his breath. 'All right already! Snape, give him the stuff!' Snape didn't hesitate. He gently as he could laid Draco on the floor and used his wand to summon a chest. Once he magicked it onto the table, he removed all those fancy magic locks and finally got the damn thing open. Death approached the table and Snape turned the chest to face him. He reached inside and took out the Stone, examining it closely before pocketing it. Then he pulled out the long willowy cloak Harry had told Dean was in his backpack. It shimmered as Death stroked it, magically causing it to fold up by itself until it wasn't more than a small square, which again Death placed in a pocket.

Finally, he took The Wand out. Slowly, he brought it close to his face and took a deep breath - Dean realized he was smelling the thing.

'Do you know what the possessor of my three hallows is called in the wizarding world?' he asked Dean, who gave no answer. 'The Master of Death,' he chuckled. 'Who knew my little game would hold such significance over them through the centuries.' Slowly, he put The Wand away as you would your glasses.

'You've got your stuff, now bring them back,' Dean growled.

'Since I will enjoy watching the show, I'll grant you that request,' Death said magnanimously. Both Bobby and Draco gasped themselves back to consciousness, being taken care of by Cas and Snape respectively. 'Good luck, Dean. You are really going to need it this time.' With those final smug words, Death disappeared. Dean needed to punch something, but he couldn't. Instead he turned to Cas and Bobby.

'He ok?'

'I'm fine,' Bobby groused, 'but can someone else die next time?' Dean ignored that and went to Draco, who was coughing and gasping in Snape's arms. He settled down fairly quickly though, and managed to sit up.

'You ok?' Dean asked.

'Yes, I'm fine, just…' But he didn't look fine. He was shaking and sweating. Snape was waving his stick around, but it didn't appear to be doing much good. Dean thought he might know, however. He grabbed Draco's shoulder, forcing him to look up.

'Death was messing with you,' he said. 'Literally, why do you think he picked you?'

'I have no idea,' Draco denied, but his pale face told another story.

'What is he talking about?' Snape demanded.

'Nothing,' Draco shook his head. 'I'm fine.' He was pulling himself together, Dean could see that - the guy was stronger than he gave himself credit for. Dean rose and went back to the table, staring at the empty box.

'Now what?' Bobby asked.

'Now, we're out of options,' Dean said. He looked to Cas, and got the same silent conclusion from him. They were officially fucked. How on earth could they defeat the Devil and a power-mad demon? And what the hell had happened to Harry? From where Dean was standing, the world had already ended.

'We need to get to the Ministry,' Snape declared. Everyone looked to him. 'We need to gather what forces remain and… try.' Dean couldn't help raising an eyebrow at that; who would have thought the Gargamel-dude would be the last stand type? But he was right, because Dean was exactly the last stand sort of guy.

'That's madness,' Draco protested. 'The Ministry is probably in shambles, if there's anything left to be in shambles at all. There's no one left.'

'But we need to try,' Dean said, nodding. He looked at Cas. 'You're willing?'

'If the Apocalypse is finally here,' Cas announced. 'I would rather die fighting it to the last man.'

'Then let's get the show on the road,' Bobby agreed, though he didn't sound at all enthusiastic. Dean glanced at Draco, but he wasn't protesting anymore. He was perfectly resigned.

'You're not leaving me here,' he said softly. Dean nodded. Here we go again, he thought. They packed up all the weapons he and Bobby could fit on their persons and got ready.

XXX

The Ministry was indeed in shambles. Dean remembered the last time he had been there. Everything had seemed otherworldly, like they'd been stuck in a movie. Now, things were very different.

The Atrium, as Dean now knew it was called, looked like a war zone. The fireplaces had been destroyed, blown out one by one, their remains littering the floor in huge chunks. Among the rubble lay wizards and witches, and a few strange creatures. Goblins and house-elves, according to Draco, which Dean couldn't deal with right now. The large statue had been split down the middle, and only half of it remained standing at an odd angle. The indoor office windows were mostly blown out.

It was around what Dean referred to as the reception area that they found survivors. They were fairly well organised: beds had been made along a wall were debris had been cleared, people were tending to wounded and search parties were still being sent out to look for survivors. There was a lot of wand-waving.

'Lupin!' Snape suddenly shouted and a shabby-looking wizard with light brown hair turned towards them. His robes looked like patchwork, but his face was kind, Dean thought.

'Severus,' the man answered and rushed towards them. 'Where have you been? And Mr. Malfoy! They said you were dead.'

'Wrong Malfoy,' Draco muttered.

'What's going on?' Snape demanded.

'Every major wizarding site in Britain has been attacked. It seems after the Conference our enemies decided we were the most organised target, and so they've been systematically dismantling us.' Lupin waved his arm across the scene before studying Snape's companions a bit closer. 'There have been attacks in France, Germany and Bulgaria, though we don't know their status.' He sighed and ran a hand through his graying hair, then looked at them again as if seeing them for the first time.

'I think perhaps you best disguise your friends, Severus,' he said, glancing over at a group of wizards. 'Some people might not want them here.'

'We're all on the same side,' Dean interjected.

'Agreed,' Lupin said, nodding, 'but in times of war people prefer lines to be a bit clearer.' He looked pointedly at Castiel. 'He may not like what they've got planned, either.'

'What are you planning?' Castiel asked immediately. Lupin sighed, scratched his head for a moment, and then motioned for them to follow him.

'I guess they'll just have to get over it,' he grumbled. They all walked past the wounded to the elevators, and apart from a few stares, people had more important things to worry about, or were far too tired to sense Castiel's foreign magical presence.

They took the elevator down just one floor, though the same black tiled walls greeted them. They went through a door at the end of the corridor and found a large circular room with several doors around it. In the middle was a large table covered in papers, though this could barely be seen thanks to the amount of people surrounding it. The noise they were making as they argued was a little deafening.

One of them looked up at their entrance - it was the young woman who had defended Sam and helped Harry during the trail. She looked about a decade away from that event. Her hair was frizzy and looked like it had lost its color, even though she clearly wasn't old enough for that. Her face was pale - she was barely holding it together. Despite this, she approached them with her head high and greeted them with a clear voice.

'Professor Snape,' she said, 'And Mr. Malfoy. Welcome back. I see you've brought some American friends.'

'Not all American, Miss Granger,' Snape corrected. 'Winchester you know, and this is his associate Mr. Singer. Castiel is of another origin.'

'I would have liked to have met you all under better circumstances,' she said.

'What's going on?' Snape asked.

'They want to mount an attack,' she sighed, gesturing to the squabbling pack.

'On what?'

'On Heaven.'

'How do you propose to accomplished that?' Castiel stepped forth. 'Wizards and witches do not go to heaven.'

'We weren't planning a suicide pact,' she explained. 'There's a way...' she looked to Snape. 'The Veil.' Dean didn't know what the hell that was, but whatever means of entry they were insane if they attempted something like that.

'However you get there,' he said, 'you're gonna have your asses handed to you.'

'Eloquently put, Mr. Winchester,' Snape said snidely, but then: 'and absolutely correct.'

'Tell that to this lot,' Granger nodded towards the group. They were beginning to notice the new arrivals. 'I've told them not all the attacks have come from the angels. The first to strike was Voldemort, I have no doubts about it. But they won't listen. They're determined to go on the offensive.' The group had now fallen silent, and one of them stepped around the table.

'Who are these people, Miss Granger?' he demanded. He looked the bureaucrat-type, right down to the mousy moustache.

'Help,' she answered simply. They group didn't seem to know what to ask next. Before they could say anything, a loud boom was heard above them and the whole room shook.

'Now what?' Dean asked. Granger raced by out of the room and apparated. They all followed, and it was Draco who grabbed Dean to take him up. He was actually getting used to the sensation, and didn't even stumble when they arrived.

Wizards and witches were popping up all around them, but so were demons. Or, rather, they were falling. Looking up, Dean realised that whatever enchantment kept this building underground had a crack. The roof had a big gaping hold in it, and demons were literally jumping down. Some of them weren't strong enough to land on their feet, but broken bones didn't stop them.

Still, these he could fight. He had his shotgun in his hand, and the knife in his belt, with lots of ammo, holy water, salt and more weapons in his backpack, even a little mace bottle with holy water in his pocket. 

One of them landed a few feet away from him, hitting a large chunk of rubble hard enough to stumble. Dean used the moment of distraction to jump on him and stab him right in the chest. Another was running at him and he slowed it down with a shotgun blast. From that moment, the bastards were coming thick.

A pattern emerged, with the wizarding side - including the hunters and Cas - defending one side of the Atrium closest to the elevators, using the fallen piece of the giant statue as cover. Once they were actually fighting, none of the wizards seemed to care they had muggles or an angel on their side.

He was blasting the head almost clean off a weak one when he saw him: Harry. He was walking slowly towards the fighting, a small smile on his face. His glasses were gone, and he was wearing a black robe instead of his usual t-shirt and jeans. His skin looked awful; pale and clammy, and his hair was wilder than ever.

'Harry!' Granger cried. She looked like she was about to run to him, so Dean grabbed her shoulder and pulled her behind a large rock for cover.

'That's not Harry,' he said. She closed her eyes, shaking her head. 'That's Voldemort inside him.'

'No, that's- that's not possible!'

'Look at his eyes!' Dean pulled her up so she could look past him and see the red eyes.

'I know you took it!' Voldemort suddenly cried, making Harry's voice screech. The fighting seem to pause as his voice echoed round the chamber. 'I know you stole it. I will let you live if you just give it to me. Come now, stop this. You are all exhausted.'

'What's he talking about?' Granger whispered.

'The Wand,' Dean told her.

'Wand?'

'Elder, or whatever.'

'You have the Elder Wand!?' she hissed.

'No, well, we did, but it's gone.'

'Gone? What do you mean?'

'We gave it back to Death,' Dean explained hurriedly. 'All three of them. The hallows! Harry said to.'

'What-...' Granger fell silent. She looked over the rubble and stared at Voldemort. He stared back.

'Miss Granger,' he greeted sweetly. 'Harry says hello. He wants you to stop fighting. He wants you to live.'

'Rule number one,' Dean whispered to her. 'Demons always lie.' She gripped her wand tightly and stood to her full height.

'Harry would never stop fighting!' she cried.

'Your dear Ronald did,' Voldemort replied. 'Gave up, just like that.' Dean could tell she was already aware of this man's death, and she steeled herself against the taunt. She raised her wand, but once again their little party was interrupted.

The Devil had arrived.


	18. Masters and Epilogue

Dean saw Lucifer in Sam's body appearing out of nowhere. He only had eyes for Voldemort, oblivious to the fighting around him. Dean didn't have time to do anything about it, however, as Granger was now screaming. 'Retreat!' He wasn't sure what was happening. Several of the demons had popped away at the new arrival, and yet others were appearing. What about the other angels? Where they coming to the show as well? It was gonna get really crowded in here. Dean was about to follow Granger's lead, when he saw Draco suddenly stand up.

'Draco!' Dean yelled, but the wizard didn't appear to have heard him. Granger grabbed Dean's arm suddenly, and they were back underground in the hallway.

'To the Veil,' she ordered. Everyone followed her lead. Dean looked around in confusion and found Castiel and Bobby - the latter had blood streaming down from a head wound.

'You ok?' Dean asked as they hurried after the wizards.

'Fine,' Bobby answered curtly, but it was clear he had had enough of it all. Dean couldn't blame him.

'How much ammo do you have left?'

''Bout half.' Bobby didn't have the knife, so he had had to rely on the blunt force of the shotgun.

'Did any of you see Draco? I thought I saw him but-' Dean stopped short as they entered the large chamber. It looked like a medieval boxing ring, with a large arch in the middle. On it hung an eerie cloth that fluttered in non-existent wind.

'Well, that's not creepy,' Dean muttered. He got Granger's attention. 'Is that the thing you were planning to invade Heaven through?'

'Yes, but it's not ready-' Granger replied distractedly. She was trying to ascertain how many of them were still alive. By a quick glance about the room, Dean reckoned it was about 30 able-bodied wizards and witches.

'Ready?'

'The Veil was used to sign the agreement two thousand years ago,' she explained hurriedly. 'We found the ritual to… dial it up, like a telephone.' Surprised to hear such an analogy from her, Dean nodded gratefully for understanding something for once. 'Right now, it's connected to the void, which… well, which no one knows what is, only that people never return from it.'

'And have a lot of people gone into this… void?' From the looks of the room, Dean had a sudden image of gladiator fights ending rather dully in his opinion. They heard a loud blast from the corridor. The demons, in service of Voldemort or Lucifer - they had no way of knowing - where inside the circular room with the many doors. Dean again checked the survivors for Draco - and Snape - but saw neither.

'Everyone get into defensive positions!' Granger cried. 'Get the wounded to the far side of the room.'

Dean took a deep breath, and checked his gun.

XXX

Harry had fallen into darkness before. Sometimes he had been convinced it had been the darkness of death, but this was different from all the previous ones. It was alive.

It was Voldemort.

And it wasn't just around him, it was inside him, connected to him, poking at him and using him and his magic however it pleased, laughing all the way. In a way, it was him, and it had never left him.

He could see it all: the Atrium, Dean running and ducking and killing. Hermione, being so bloody brave. Did she even know Harry had murdered Ron less than an hour ago? Draco Malfoy, fighting on their side from the start this time. Severus Snape and Remus Lupin were there too - all of them, really. Except Ron.

Harry was going to kill them all.

He was so focused on spotting his friends that he didn't even notice it when his wand was pointed directly at a Ministry employee.

'Avada Kedavra!' His voice sounded hoarse, but the green blast was clear and shot out straight as an arrow.

'Time to end this little game, Voldemort!' Harry turned slowly towards Sam's voice. Their eyes met, and although Harry would never know for certain, he swore in that moment he was looking at Sam, and Sam was looking at him, while the devils on their shoulders ran the show.

Those eyes said 'do anything, everything, you can to stop this. Kill me.' Harry answered with the same sentiment. Then it all blurred again.

'Avada Kedavra!' The curse missed its intended target, and hit an innocent bystander - Harry wasn't sure who. There was so much chaos, and now the wizards were retreating and the demons were scared. 'Get back here!' Harry screamed. 'Attack him, all of you!' But they weren't all on his side, he realized. Some of them were fighting for Lucifer, the fools, and soon it was demon against demon, and there was no way to tell if they were fighting the right ones.

Lucifer laughed at the confusion.

'You think you matter?' he mocked. 'This is my Apocalypse, you little freak, you're nothing but a wannabe wizard, and boy, am I gonna have some fun picking you apart.'

'I am beyond you!' Harry yelled back over the fighting. He lifted a boulder and flung it towards Lucifer, who easily dodged it, but Harry did like the loud crash it made. 'I am beyond you all!' He shot a great lighting bolt from his wand, and again Lucifer sidestepped it, like a coward. The angel was afraid of this brand of magic, Harry was convinced.

'You know what?' Lucifer said thoughtfully, his low voice carried across the chamber magically. 'I'm bored.' When he disappeared this time, he was gone. Harry cursed.

'Coward!'

But he wasn't gone, he had just gone below. Harry knew it immediately when he heard a massive rumble downstairs. They were in the Department of Mysteries, hiding, and Lucifer was more concerned with them than with him. Well, if the devil thought the wizards were the greater threat, he would prove them wrong.

'Going somewhere?'

Harry frowned at the young wizard who approached him. The demons fighting around them seem to take no notice of him, as if he wasn't truly a part of the scene. It was Draco, Harry realised, but it wasn't.

'Draco Malfoy,' Harry greeted. 'Have you come to rejoin your Master?'

'I am afraid Draco isn't part of this conversation. Not intellectually, at least. He has kindly lent me his body for my purposes. I chose him specifically because he has proven he is capable, and I don't want the angels or wizards to observe my presence.'

'And who are you?'

'I am merely trying to regain some stolen property.' Harry's face contorted in confusion. He had no time for this.

'What are yo-' He almost gasped when he saw it. The Wand. Draco Malfoy raised his hand and in it was the Elder Wand. How was that possible? 'Give that to me!'

'I believe you know now that it doesn't work like that,' Draco admonished. 'You cannot master a wand that has been given. It must be taken, which is why your bargain, Harry, was incomplete.'

'So be it,' Harry growled.

'Harry,' Draco continued as if he hadn't spoken. |I am sorry if this wasn't exactly how you envisioned your gift to be received, but-'

'Stop your babbling!'

'-I do hope you understand to stay out of this. I might even spare some of your friends if you do.'

Harry raised his wand. 'Spare them? Who are you talking about? You have no power here. Give me the Wand or die!'

'As you wish.'

'Expelliarmus!' Voldemort and Draco shouted in unison. Their spells shot out and passed by each other like bullet trains. Voldemort's spell hit first, but Draco wasn't knocked backwards. He simple let the wand slip out of his hand. Voldemort's own did the same, though he let it go only because he was too focused on catching the Elder Wand. They had exchanged wands. Voldemort held his aloft in triumph.

'My Wand is returned to its rightful Master!' he cried. Draco smiled, and even across the room, Voldemort knew something was off. 'What?' he barked.

'I find it amusing that this is in reality the first time you have ever mastered my wand. It's almost a shame to take it from you so soon.'

'You won't be taking anything,' Voldemort growled. He pointed the Elder Wand. 'Avada-' Harry bit his tongue halfway through the curse. Voldemort stumbled at the sudden pain.

'Expelliarmus!'

It was Draco's mouth that moved, but the voice was otherworldly, deep and unnatural, and all who heard it felt a shiver run through them.

The spell was so powerful it knocked Voldemort off his feet and at least thirty feet away, all the way down to the first fireplace. He landed on a pile of rubble, head first.

He was wandless, but he wasn't dead. Blinking, he focused on Draco, who held the Elder Wand.

'Accio wand!' Voldemort cried, and the one from the nearest corpse flew into his hand. 'Avada Kedavra!' he flung out.

The green light shot clear across the chamber, hitting Draco right in the chest, but it just dissipated, like it had been a harmless charm.

'How-!'

Draco Malfoy fell to the side suddenly, fainting and going down rather gracelessly, but a man stood exactly where he had been - like a ghost inside him, only solid. He was old and pale, and held the Elder Wand aloft as a precious old friend. He was only visible for a few seconds. 

'Enough of fairy tales,' he whispered, and vanished like a sigh. 

XXX

'What are you doing?' Dean asked as Granger waved her wand around her head. They were ready for the onslaught to arrive, with the wounded stowed away at the back. 

'Checking to make sure the anti-apparition wards are still in place here.'

'Are we sure we want them to be stuck in here with us?' Granger stopped short and gave Dean a look, but before she could respond, the door burst open, along with half of the wall.

Demons poured inside. They had to be Lucifer's demons, considering how he strutted in after them.

The wizards were in a bad position, with the demons having the high ground as they pushed their way down towards the arch. Dean and Bobby were a bit short on action as they guarded the wounded, but the way Dean saw it, they were best in closer combat, and Granger had a no-nonsense way of making you obey orders. 

Lucifer had his eyes on them, however, and he found little resistance as he made his way to the center.

'Come now, Dean,' he taunted. 'Come with me and we'll have some fun.' He was all the way to the middle platform with the arch when Granger stepped in front of him.

'Let him go,' she told him, breathing hard, her wand hand straight and steady.

'You don't want to do that, witch,' Lucifer said with a smile, putting a suggestive emphasis on the 'witch'. She started firing spells - Dean couldn't catch the latin - but the devil dodged, and when he couldn't dodge he seemed to have an invisible shield. Whenever a spell hit it dead on, two great black wings would flicker into sight for a moment.

The spells were having an effect, slowing him down, but he was still advancing. Granger looked on the verge of running out of steam. Dean would have run to help, but he had to deal with a annoying soldier demon first.

'I'm sorry,' she said suddenly. 'Avada Kedavra!' A great green light shot out, and this time it hit Lucifer properly. Surprised, he fell to his knees. He coughed up blood and Granger took a step back. She was only a few feet from the arch.

'You've got quite a punch to you, little witch,' Lucifer smiled, showing off red teeth. 'But your tricks don't work on me.' He slung out his hand, quicker than Dean could see, and an angelic sword flew out like a throwing knife. Granger's whole body staggered when it hit her. She looked completely shocked.

'No!' Dean abandoned his post and ran to her. He caught her as she fell backwards. The sword was hilt deep in her heart. She was already dead by the time her head hit Dean's chest.

Despite the noise of demons screaming, curses being thrown and people dying, Dean still heard Lucifer's footsteps as he approached. He looked up, ignoring Sam's face to focus on the monster inside. He hadn't known the woman in his arms at all, but she had been a damn good fighter, and she had helped Sam once, a life-time ago. Dean swore right then and there that he would never say or think a bad thing about witches for as long as he lived, which granted was only for a few more seconds, but considering his history with witches, it was a big step.

'No Impala this time, Dean,' Lucifer smiled. 'To awaken those pesky memories.' He looked around them at the throng. 'I wonder if Castiel is around. I'd like to blow him up, for old time's sake.'

'Go to hell,' Dean muttered.

'Not this time, Dean,' Lucifer sighed. 'This time, it's going to go my way.'

'NO!'

Dean wasn't sure who had yelled at first, but then time seemed to slow for him, and he saw it all unfold.

Granger was bleeding all over him, and Lucifer was turning at the noise, confused for once.

As he turned, Harry - just Harry, in full control - hit him with the full force of his body, and maybe a little magical boost of some kind, Dean couldn't tell. Despite Harry's relative size to Sam, they both flew through the air.

They hit the floor just shy of the Veil, but Harry's momentum kept them rolling. Dean watched as they passed through, and although he could see the rest of the room through the flimsy curtain, the pair disappeared the moment they touched it.

Gone, just like last time, only not to a cage in hell, but a void.

Gone.

Speechless, Dean just sat there, cradling Granger still.

The demons started trying to get away when they realized what had happened, but their powers of escape wouldn't work so they started abandoning their meat-suits in droves. The wizards and witches caught some, but a lot of them escaped.

With the whoosh of one last demon, everything fell silent at last.

For a long time nothing seemed to move.

Bobby was the first to approach him. He fell to his knees next to the pair.

'God dammit,' he whispered, eyes closed. Dean was still staring at the Veil, willing someone to appear. 'I thought it would be different this time.'

'Where's… where's Cas?' Dean asked.

'He's trying to heal some of them.' Dean forced himself to look away, to stare at the damage.

Considering they should all be dead, they hadn't come out half bad.

'No,' another anguished voice, this time soft, full of tears. The scruffy-looking man, Lupin, was standing over them. He fell to his knees as well, reaching out. 'No,' he whispered, clutching at her robes. Dean slowly lowered her to the floor, pushing some of that bushy hair out of her eyes. Both he and Bobby stood to leave Lupin alone with her.

When he turned, he saw Snape coming into the room. He was carrying Draco. Dean hurried up to him.

'Is he…?' but he didn't need to finish the question. Draco was breathing.

'I don't know how,' Snape said, shaking his head. He gently lowered Draco so he was propped up against some remnants of the wall. 'I'm not sure what I saw,' he continued. 'He should be dead.'

'What do you mean?' Dean crouched down by Draco's side, trying to feel some relief against the grief of losing the others. Draco looked dirty and tired, but perfectly healthy otherwise.

'I think I saw…' Snape hesitated. Dean had never seen the wizard actually scared before. 'Death possessing him.'

'Death was here?'

'Yes, he dueled with Voldemort, or Harry rather. I think he meant to take back the Wand.'

'What? But he had the wand-'

'It's complicated,' Snape shook his head. 'No time right now-' he stopped short when he surveyed the damage. 'I best help with the wounded.' Dean watched him go, wondering if his skills at stitches would be of any use. He doubted it.

'Wizards and witches,' a voice sighed. Dean knew it was Death without looking. He'd know that gravelly sound anywhere. 'So arrogant. They think just because they use something, that they are masters of it.'

'Why did you spare him?' Dean asked, looking up. Death tilted his head down towards Draco.

'Because he never wanted to be in possession of my things. He is the only one of his kind I have found who has no interest in being "Master of Death". In fact, he embraced me as an old friend.'

'What are you talking about? Is this more magic wand shit?'

'Just tell him that when he wakes up. Tell him I promise to come for him, in time. And don't yell, Dean,' Death warned and sent shivers down Dean's spine. 'Otherwise I might lose my good mood.'

'Good mood?' Dean waved a hand at the scene. 'It's a goddamn massacre.'

'It was a good battle,' Death argued. 'Except for the ending. I don't like it when they use my things.'

'Yours?' Dean looked to the Arch. 'That thing is yours too?'

'In a way, what lies beyond it,' Death replied cryptically. Dean rose slowly, trying to make himself seem the least annoying.

'Are you saying you can bring them back?'

'They've gone to the void, into nothingness,' Death explained. 'My domain.' Dean tried not to close his eyes and gag at the creep factor, so he grit his teeth and kept his gaze steady.

'What do you want from me? I'll give you anything.'

'You already have, as Harry instructed.'

'And Sam?'

Death raised an eyebrow at that. 'Greedy,' he said. Before Dean could open his mouth, Death was gone, not even a puff of wind to mark his passing. Dean stared at the empty spot for a few moments, before gasps and cries caused him to turn.

Harry stepped out of the Veil, supporting Sam, or maybe they were supporting each other. They looked more than a little dazed and confused.

Harry let go when they reached Granger, taking Lupin's outstretched hand. Dean could hear him sobbing as he knelt next to her. Sam looked like he wanted to offer comfort, but he was also clearly looking around for Dean. Bobby went to him and hugged him tight, then pointed him in the right direction.

Finally, Sam's eyes found Dean's.

XXX

_Epilogue_

The door shut with a dull smack, and for a moment none of them knew what to do. As the only one who was technically home, Bobby eventually trudged off to the kitchen. The brothers heard him pottering about, hopefully making sure they had beer.

'Dibs on the shower,' Dean muttered. Sam took one look at the rock dust and blood - Granger's blood - covering him and nodded, disappearing into the living room. Dean heard the couch groan from Sam's weight as he pulled himself up the stairs towards blessed clean water.

During his life, Dean had gone through hell, figuratively and literally, but nothing had been quite as exhausting as this last adventure. Something about the Disney-ness of it all. He felt like he had traveled further than ever before, only to come all the way round to the beginning. The truth was, it didn't matter if they waved wands or spoke better Latin than he did, people were people, and war was war.

Having Sam survive left him oddly drained. But he didn't want to crash. Despite their losses, this had to be considered a win. They were alive, after all, and hadn't they fucking deserved that? Feeling jittery, he finished his shower quickly, got some clean clothes, and headed downstairs to get that beer. He stopped short when he found a gathering in the hallway.

Sam was hugging Harry, clutching him so he was off the ground by a good foot. Bobby leaned against the door frame to the kitchen, some sort of fond look on his face.

Sam put Harry down eventually, both of them glancing at him, and Dean was pretty sure this was awkward. Harry ran a hand through his bird's nest and Sam put his in his pockets.

'Are you…' Sam began.

'Are you staying?' Dean helped him. Both of them shot him such annoyed looks he decided to stay out of it, following Bobby's lead.

'I've already left England,' Harry said, glancing towards the front door. 'I really didn't have any intention of going back. I mean- I will… for the funerals…' He closed his eyes, Sam reached out, hesitated, and then placed a hand on his shoulder.

'He's outside waiting,' Harry said suddenly, looking at Dean.

'Who is?'

'Draco.'

Everyone fell silent. Dean knew he should probably respond to that.

He went outside instead.

Draco was leaning against one of Bobby's wrecks. He was holding his wand, twiddling it round and round rather expertly. He looked up when he heard the gravel crunch, pocketing the wand.

Dean stopped a good distance from him.

'You ok?'

'I'm alive.'

'Yeah,' Dean huffed, 'I've heard that line before, hell, I've given it.'

'What do you want me to say?' Draco challenged. 'I was possessed by Death himself to win back his wand because apparently I was Master of it for months without knowing it? How about the fact that I was hit with the Killing Curse and didn't die - and I had the Stone in my pocket. I'm not scared of it anymore, though, because Death and I had a nice little conversation about it, which I'll probably have nightmares about for the rest of my life. Or, to top it all off, how about the fact that we're all - inexplicably - alive after all this, and you just bugger off across the pond without so much as a by your leave?'

Dean let him blow off the steam. He was used to Sam's lung power, so this was nothing. When Draco quieted down, Dean nodded thoughtfully.

'How 'bout you start with what you're doing here?' He had meant to say "what do you want" but for some reason, his mouth hadn't wanted to say it.

'I'm sorry to have bothered you,' Draco snapped, pushing off the car, 'I'll leave immediately.'

Dean was by him in three long strides, grabbing the first thing he reached - his arm.

'Don't you dare,' he warned, squeezing. Draco stared at him in confusion. He was still dirty from the fight, even though it had taken them hours and hours to help with clean-up. Dean hadn't been paying much attention to where Draco had been at the time. When the only work left had to be done by magic, Castiel had dropped them back home. No one had tried to stop them.

Suddenly, Draco's free hand cupped the back of Dean's head and forced it down to meet his lips. It was a hard kiss, not very pleasant. Draco used both hands to keep him in place, though there was no need. As he opened his mouth to try and soften the experience, Dean slid his arms around Draco's waist, who responded to the embrace by making things infinitely better, slower, deeper. A snog, Dean's mind supplied abruptly, was a very apt word.

Draco tasted slightly metallic, but he felt warm and breathing, every twitch and movement of his body intoxicating. He gasped Dean's air into himself, so close now they were touching head to toe. Dean was getting slightly dizzy, turning them so he could brace himself on the car, then slowly leaned Draco against it.

He tried to breathe a few times, maybe get a few words in, but Draco wasn't letting go. Finally, Dean had to pry Draco's hands off his neck, although they immediately grabbed his collar.

'We should… we should probably talk,' Dean tried. He was braced against the car, with Draco snug between his arms.

'Yes, there's lots to discuss,' Draco whispered. 'I prefer bottoming from the top.'

'Right,' Dean swallowed. Draco kissed his neck and he lost his train of thought. 'Yeah, that's- Shit, I meant, other… things, ah.'

'This is a much more pressing matter,' Draco protested with a purr, unbuttoning Dean's top button. 'Where's you bedroom?'

'Corner bedroom upstairs-… but listen, we should- fuck, why am I talking?'

Draco looked up from his task.

'I haven't the faintest idea.'

Dean kissed him. He didn't really know what he was doing. He didn't know where he was going. The squeezing sensation was familiar now, and in a way he kind of liked it. For a moment, he and Draco were squeezed together through a gap in the universe, created by Draco. The gap led to Dean's bedroom, which as far as magical travel went, wasn't very impressive. Draco's sucking on his collarbone was.

'Does this mean, you're sticking around? Or is this a one-night only deal?' Usually, it was the other person asking that question, and the answer was always "let's just see what happens" and then sneaking out in the morning. Draco glanced up at him, sliding his cool hands up Dean's shirt for a moment, then withdrawing. Dean frowned.

'I'd like to shower first, I think,' Draco said.

Dean pointed the way, and was left alone rather abruptly. He sat down on the bed, wondering what the hell was going on inside that blond head. Wouldn't Snape insist he go back? Dean didn't fancy standing between that guy and whatever he wanted. And now with Harry staying, how about four's a crowd? Dean sighed and rubbed at his face, feeling almost as stressed as before the battle.

There was a knock on the door – Sam's unmistakable "are you having a moment, do I dare interrupt?" knock. He stood in the open doorway.

'Yeah,' Dean answered.

'Draco's in the shower?'

'Yeah, sorry, you know how he is.'

'Not sure I do, but it's fine. I'm alright with just a change of clothes for now. Me, Harry and Bobby were thinking of getting a bite to eat.'

'So, this is how it's gonna be?' Dean asked, not judging, just curious.

'I don't know,' Sam shrugged, brows furrowed. 'Seems like it's pretty useful having a wizard around.'

'And two?'

'We could work in pairs, meet-up whenever, do the big jobs together.'

'Think that could really work?'

'Why not?' He repeated the shrug. 'Why can't we just, for once, do it by ear, instead of following the old story?'

'I don't know...' It seemed too good to even consider it.

'You want Draco to stick around?' Sam prodded. Dean shifted, feeling a heat crawl up his neck. What the hell was wrong with his body suddenly? 

'I feel responsible for the guy... I-' For some reason he was having trouble getting his head around the fact that he had just been making out with the guy not two minutes ago. Sam was getting that crooked smile on his face that said he suspected exactly what was going on in Dean's head. This was too much. He got up and paced to the window.

'Why don't we just... see where the road takes us?' Sam suggested. If there was a metaphor Dean could get behind, it was definitely that one. He looked out over Bobby's lot, then glanced back at Sam.

'We get the Impala.' Sam rolled his eyes and left, but he was smiling.

And so was Dean.

_The End_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note on the Elder Wand Mastery: Since the last year in this story is so alternated from the books (Voldemort was exposed as a demon before the events on book seven), the Mastery of the Elder Wand did not follow the same path. I'm not certain I ever liked how the idea of mastery was presented in the books, so in this story it is used more for poetic effect, tying in with Draco's fear of never dying, so it's not to be taken too literally.


End file.
